The CooperWinkle Vendetta
by twowritehands
Summary: Sheldon can't let anything get in the way of his Nobel Prize, and Leslie, though a hippie for science, can't stop comparing her life to the classic literature her parents analyze for a living. Love is a distraction, and nothing like the books, or is it?
1. Chapter 1

_disclaimer: not our nerds_

_author's note on the year: _this story begins pre season one

**First Lady of Science**

The cafeteria was full and conversation buzzed as the hottest minds of the twenty-first century shared questionable food for lunch. It was fall, and grad-students had descended. They gathered in lumps throughout the cafeteria, talking excitedly, and sucking up to anyone they thought they should if it would help them get a job later.

Loud laughter from a table in the center accented the buzz of the room. That was Kripke's table, the cool table. All of the young scientists had banded together there, except for one.

Dr. Sheldon Cooper sat alone at a table beside the vending machines, eating a neatly packed brown-bagged lunch. He was lanky and sat with his long legs together with feet side by side, his elbows tucked in, and his head down. His long back curved like a bow as he bent to sink his teeth in a sandwich with the crust cut off. In front of him were his flattened brown bag, a zip-lock sandwich bag, a juice carton, a plastic tub of mixed fruit, and a small bag of chips. He had arranged all of the items at perfect angles, spaced evenly, and turned with their labels in to face him.

He ignored Kripke's table and the other young men, all his age, there. He ignored everything. He was working on a very long math problem in his head as he chewed every even bite exactly twenty-two times. He did not notice when a lone figure stepped through the double red doors and joined the masses in the cafeteria.

She was young, small in stature, and smiling. Her brown hair hung perfectly straight and her bangs toyed with the idea of sweeping into her dark eyes. She was wearing her best comfortable-but-still-dressy clothes, and cut through the crowds to buy a lunch tray before casting her eyes around for a place to sit. She saw the cool table first, but the smallest man at it had already noticed her and was jumping his eyebrows at her. She chose the next available chair she saw, and happily, it was far from the creepy Jewish guy.

"Hi," she said to the lone man as she sat down her tray, "Mind if I sit?" she sat without waiting for his invitation. He straightened in surprise, and even seemed to curl away from her as if she were a predatory intruder in the burrow of something docile and timid. When he spoke, however, his voice was firm and his eyes were sharp—made sharper by eyebrows that pointed when they rose,

"Hello."

"I'm Leslie," she said as she opened her pudding cup—chocolate, of course. "Leslie Winkle."

"Dr. Sheldon Cooper." He said, but he did not offer his hand. He returned to eating his sandwich in silence, virtually ignoring her. He had not noticed her double take and smile,

"Dr. Sheldon Cooper!" She said, "Wow. I've heard of you. The Stevenson, right?"

He looked at her, really seeing her for the first time, "Yes. I am the youngest ever to win it."

"I know!" She said. Sheldon immediately felt more comfortable. Praise for his brilliance always had that effect on him. His tense shoulders relaxed and he smiled at her.

As a modern woman in the Information Age, a smart man was a sexy man for Leslie. She had always wanted to meet the prodigal son of science, Dr. Cooper, someone her age but shining already so bright in his field of work. She was delighted to find that, though a little too lanky for her previous tastes, he was attractive in his own strange way.

"I've been accepted to study for my doctorate here," she said.

"Congratulations, what field?"

"Experimental physics."

"Not my cup of tea, but whatever works for you."

"Oh, I don't think theoretical physics could hold my attention long enough—I like to play with lasers and things too much."

"Careful with those things. I built my own once and burned down the shed."

Leslie laughed, "I haven't found my way around, yet. Care to show me?"

He paused to consider and then shrugged, "I suppose."

By the end of the workday, they were in a fierce debate. Leslie did not believe in String Theory, preferring Quantum Loop Gravity. Sheldon stubbornly refused to accept her arguments, and in doing so adopted a little more of an East Texas drawl and more than a little of a condescending attitude towards her. For the sake of keeping the debate civil, she chose not to let his attitude anger her, though she did let her suppressed wounded pride fuel her arguments.

She attacked with structured scientific arguments, coming from a place of logic and fact. In school, she had been on the debate teams and had often received praises and trophies for her passion. Dr. Cooper, however, was not moved by any of it and so four hours later was still opposed.

It had been a very long time since she met someone who held out so long against her debating skills. She liked it.

In his counter arguments, Sheldon, too, used strong scientific evidence and supportive logic and facts. However, he did not stop it there, adding in on top of it a dose of condescension,

"Leslie, you do not even _have_ your PhD yet, you have no idea what you're talking about!" and a stubborn refrain of a meaningless tautology such as,

"It is true because _it true_ Leslie!"

When the question of evidence was put before him, he said, "The lack of evidence as of now is _moot_. Like Edison or Einstein, I _know_ it is possible. I know the evidence is there. It is merely waiting for a brilliant and unsurpassed mind—i.e. me—to find it, to unlock its mysteries and present it to a world of narrow-minded people like you."

"Narrow-minded?" Leslie exploded, throwing her cautious debate techniques aside, "You are calling _me_ narrow minded?"

"Yes." He said.

Leslie bit back a retort and reminded herself that it would put them into a downward spiral. A true debater took higher roads when the opposition stooped to name-calling. Besides, scientific theories were all good fun to her, like trying to predict the end of an epic series.

In the pause that followed Leslie's momentary slip and Sheldon's arrogant answer, Leslie noticed that Sheldon's long stride had taken them to the bus stop outside the University.

"Are you going home?" she asked.

"Yes." He said again, in exactly the same way.

"You're just going to give up?"

"I didn't give up. I won."

She laughed, "You wish."

The bus pulled to a stop in front of them, but Sheldon turned his back on it, looking down at her with a glint in his eye and a smirk on his lips, "You disagree?"

"Yes." She said, mimicking him.

He gave her a look of haughty derision. He'd done it so many times that day that she'd begun to think of it as a kind of joke of his; a subtle tease, a dare to defy the Stevenson. She had no idea he was literally ridiculing her. "Leslie, I've given you unarguable evidence for String Theory, it baffles me that you still hold onto your generally _wrong_ thesis."

The bus driver asked if they were getting on or not. Leslie didn't want him to go yet. She jerked a thumb over her shoulder, "Want to grab some drinks while you continue trying to prove that to me?"

He sighed and headed in that direction, starting back at the very beginning of his argument, quoting it verbatim. This time Leslie led the way while he followed without thought.

He narrowed his lips and looked down his nose at the bar and all of the people in it, but followed her to a table and sat, talking all the while. He sat as he had in the cafeteria, with feet and knees together and elbows tucked in. His messenger bag went into his lap, and he gripped it tightly as he spoke.

Leslie ordered a beer and interrupted him to ask if he would have one.

"I promised my mother I wouldn't drink." He said and his face twitched ever so slightly.

"Just one," She said and ordered one for him. Both of them had to show their IDs, proving they were twenty-one. Sheldon's eye caught hers and he saw that she had just passed that legal barrier by a matter of a few weeks. She put the ID away and he slid his back into in his wallet beside his Batman card and then continued his argument.

Leslie was expertly attacking his points of argument by the time the beers came. Sheldon took a polite sip, immediately disliked the taste and sat it back down. However, when it was his turn to argue, he began absently taking a sip here and there. It was not long before he began to loosen up.

Leslie finished her second in the time it took Sheldon's amber liquid to reach the two-thirds point of his glass. However, he already seemed to be tipsier than she was. So, she thought, he's a lightweight; a _very_ lightweight. She found that endearing. Already he was drastically different. His Texan drawl was even more evident, he smiled more, and—she had not thought it was possible—he refrained from haughty condescension even less.

With two beers warming her gut, she found it harder to cling to her debating morals and so when his arrogant quips stung, she stung back—and in the traditional Winkle Woman Way, she stung harder.

Knowing nothing about the skinny, Texan physicist outside of his work, his credentials, and the handful of OCD habits she had noticed during the day, (which she was not going to attack because OCD was not a joke) she attacked mostly his work and his debating skills. He attacked back insulting her intelligence and beliefs.

"String Theory is ridiculous!" She finally exploded, swooping down to his level in just eight syllables, after draining her forth class. Sheldon was taking larger sips of a second. Already it was down to half way. Though his messenger bag remained safely in his lap, he no longer gripped it or even noticed it at all, and his shoulders and elbows had loosened considerably.

He wiped the back of a hand across his lips and launched, for the third time, right back to the very beginning of his argument, repeating the words verbatim as if they would work the third time when they failed twice already. However, he only got halfway through the second sentence when he stopped, took a gulp of his beer and then said,

"String Theory is _beautiful_." His drawl was beginning to slur now, and he held onto his beer as tightly as he had the messenger bag. "It's like the mythological unicorn of science, a magnificent beast of untold glory. Only the noble and strong of heart dare to shoulder the quest of trying to prove her—to catch her, if you will."

Leslie tried to frown at him but could not stop smiling.

He was not looking at her. His blue eyes were unfocused, seeing the thing that he referred to as a _she_ not in a sexist way, but in an almost reverent way. He drank again. "When I do prove it," He said, "I will be pushing the very boundaries between science and magic, erasing them, even. Imagine understanding our universe in this way. Connecting to something bigger, something that so many ignorant people, such as you, refused even to believe _existed_ but there it will be; fact. What goes up must come down; for every action there is an equal and opposite reaction; all matter is made of strings."

Leslie had forgotten her beer and was staring at Sheldon. He did not notice.

"Nothing is better than the laws of Physics, don't you agree? Physics is solid, disreputable _facts_ that we can lean on in a world of doubt. If I could place String Theory among them, then we can all let her carry us through the next even bigger questions, the ones that will blind us and terrify us. She will be the constant to comfort us as humankind's understanding of this universe progresses even further into the wild and unknown. Mystery and possibility will shroud us, but she will be the same…It would be like looking into the face of what my mother calls God. I understand only one other thing in the world to be like that."

"What's that?" Leslie asked. He looked at her for the first time since beginning this unusual tangent and said simply, as if he were answering a simple division question, "Sex."

Heat filled her face and her stomach filled with butterflies. She accepted the offer happily, leaning in and kissing him squarely, firmly on the lips. She had heard plenty of lines before in her life since beginning college, but none of them had worked so easily—and certainly never on the first date. This one took the cake, even if String Theory was a dead end.

When Leslie pulled out of her kiss, Sheldon smirked at her, "Bazinga." He said and laughed.

She laughed, too, and kissed him again, this time her tongue flickered between his lips. He pulled away. "Now you're being silly," And he stood, heading for the door. After taking a few steps, he looked over his shoulder, smiling boyishly, swaying ever so slightly, "You're not staying here are you?"

So Dr. Cooper preferred to get right to business. That was fine with her. She stood and followed.

Sheldon felt like laughing. He did not fully understand why, but that was currently not bothering him as much as it typically would have. Leslie fell into step beside him, bumping into him, or maybe he was bumping into her. It was hard to tell because the world seemed to be uncomfortable on its axis and would not stay steady.

_Fascinating_.

His mind was racing with where to start in studying this phenomenon while he simultaneously began making an alphabetical list of the equipment he would need.

Leslie was holding his hand, perhaps to keep herself steady. At one corner, he began to turn left but she pulled right, "Let's go to my place."

He frowned and shrugged, "Only if it's not far."

She laughed. "It's not."

She led him into an apartment building and he followed her in, in order to fulfill the cultural convention of walking a friend to the door. In the elevator, she pushed him against the wall and kissed him again, and deeply. Her mouth tasted like beer and mango-flavored Chap Stick.

He stood very still as she did this. His brother once told him that when a girl did this, all he had to do was do what she was doing to him back and "before you know it, she'll make a man out of you, Shelly," whatever that meant; he already was a man. He tried to move his lips as she was moving hers. He was surprised by how nice it felt.

The elevator dinged and Leslie pulled him down the hall to a door, which she opened with a key and pulled him in after her. Inside was neat and tidy and smelled like spring flowers—he had already caught wafts of the smell from her clothing. The lines were straight and clear. The furniture was practical; the table tops virtually clear, and books filled shelves on the walls.

Once inside, she kissed him again. He was aware of where kissing often led, he had blundered in on roommates in the middle of the act many a time through his college experience, not to mention it was a common aspect of all modern movies. Sitting on her couch with her straddling him, he broke a kiss and said,

"I should go."

"Why?" She asked, running fingers through his hair. He laughed, again not really understanding where the feeling was coming from. She kissed him again. He broke it and tried to dislodge her seat from his lap.

"Don't you want to?" She asked him, sliding hands down his chest and pushing fingers under his belt to undo the clasp.

He gulped.

She kissed his neck. His hands were shaking. She kissed him deeply and pressed into him. She broke the kiss when he began trembling all over.

"Are you okay?"

"Never did this before," he slurred.

She blinked, "Never?"

He shook his head, a blush creeping up his neck. She kissed him sweetly, "It's easy." She spoke with her lips still against his.

"But," He said, sounding a little like a child grasping for reasons why he shouldn't cross the street without holding an adult's hand, "Should we?"

"You mean because I'm a student? There's nothing in the rules that says faculty can't date grad students." She was kissing his neck again. She had put his hands on her hips and his belt was gone. Her fingers were sliding under the elastic hem of his underwear. He grabbed her wrists and met her eyes.

"I meant because we've only just met." He said softly with his East Texan drawl. Suddenly she was tired of his questions, tired of anything delaying what she wanted. She only replied, "Well, I could debate it with you," and her whole hand disappeared under the elastic hem, "but I would rather continue our first debate. Make me see String Theory as you do."

He did not understand her mind's leap back to that debate which he had once again assumed he had won, but due to the things she was doing, he forgot to ask questions.

_AN: leave a review, even if it is just a sentence fragment, or a line that you liked :)_

_Also, our understanding of String Theory, and everything else that our lovable group understands so well, is only what has been said/implied on the show. If it would not cripple the story, we would simply put [science stuff] when appropriate, alas, good prose does not work that way…_


	2. Chapter 2

**2. Unraveled**

Leslie woke to a whole lot of noise; Sheldon was having a panic attack.

"What happened?" He cried.

Leslie sat up, smiling happily, "What do you think?"

"Modesty, woman!" he shrieked, turning his head and covering his eyes. Leslie looked down, pulled the sheet up over her bare breasts. Sheldon was in his underwear, half into his kakis. He had found his comic book T-shirt, but in his panic could not see the undershirt on top of the bedpost.

He was shaking, breathing strangely, and his eyes were wide.

"Sheldon, what's wrong?"

Sheldon's head was threatening to split open—he was not entirely sure it had not already. His memory of the previous night stopped at leaving the bar. He had woken to find he was in a strange room—enough of a problem for him alone—only to find his clothes gone and a girl beside him.

He felt he needed a shower. He could not remember the last time he had sanitized his hands. He could not remember where his hands had been—where anything had been. The threat of germs, of sexually transmitted disease, was making his stomach hurt, was making him feel nauseated. He rushed—one leg in his pants, the other leg bare, to the bathroom and vomited.

Leslie was right behind him, wrapped in a sheet. She stroked his back, "I'm sorry, Sheldon, I—"

"Don't touch me!" He cried, knocking her hand away, "This is your fault!"

She withdrew, her face clouding for the first time. He got to his feet, his face twitching, and shoved past her back into the bedroom. He crammed the t-shirt over his head, forgetting the undershirt and began trying to find his other shoe.

"Sheldon, what the hell?" She demanded.

"Do you have AIDS?" he asked.

"What?" She asked.

"Ghonerrhea?" He asked, advancing on her. His height combined with his sharp look and firm voice made her back away until she bumped into the dresser and was trapped there. He towered over her asking, "Chlamydia? Herpes? Oh good _lord_!" he whirled, hands in his hair like a crazy man.

"I don't have _anything_!" She practically shouted.

"Doesn't matter what you say." He spat, "I'm getting tested anyway."

"How dare you?" she demanded.

"Can you blame me?" He asked, "You go to bed with random men the day you meet them, and I'm supposed to take your word?"

"_Excuse me_," Now Leslie was starting to shake with anger, "It takes _two_ for coitus."

He retrieved his shoe from under her bedside table and stood with a scoff, "_No_. It takes _you_ getting me drunk and sticking your hands down my pants for coitus."

She slapped him. He took it without turning his head or covering his cheek, though he flushed and a dangerous look crossed his face, "Don't _ever_ hit me." He hissed. Leslie felt a brief flicker of fear at the unexpected moment of strength in an otherwise pathetic display of panic. He turned away, stepping the rest of the way into his pants and sitting on the bedside to put on his shoes.

He gasped as a thought occurred to him. "Did I use a condom?"

"Don't worry yourself. I'm on the pill."

Leslie said it with such confidence that Sheldon was convinced she did not understand the math, the odds, that the birth control could fail. Though extremely slim, they were far too wide for Sheldon. He could not even fathom becoming a father at twenty-one—his parents had his brother when they were this age and look how that turned out.

He also understood that children took a lot of time to rear properly, time he needed to win the Nobel Prize. Plus, a child would tie him and Leslie together for life, and he doubted his mother would easily accept a slut for the mother of her grandchild—not to mention what she would do upon hearing the baby was conceived outside of wed-lock.

He said all of this aloud as he tied his shoes.

"Relax, I'm not pregnant." Leslie spat.

"How can you be sure?" he demanded. "This is _my_ life we're talking about, Leslie! A bastard baby is not _at all_ desirable in East Texas!" With his shoes tied, he stood, holding his head when the action made it pound.

"Oh, what have you done?" he cried in anguish as another thought occurred to him, "What if someday I finally meet a worthy girl—what am I supposed to tell her?"

"A worthy girl?" Leslie repeated, "You're saying I'm not _worthy_?"

"No." He said, looking her right in the eye. "There is a significant gap between my intelligence and yours."

"GET OUT!" She shouted, shoving him.

On the bus, Sheldon was uncomfortable at the amount of skin that was visible on his arms. He cursed Leslie for losing his undershirt. He cursed her for causing his head to hurt this much. The fears of disease, of a baby, of what his Meemaw would think if she ever found out, made his stomach feel queasy. He cursed her for that, too.

Ignoring the questions of his pathetically average roommate, he dashed past the patio furniture in the living room, went straight to his room and immediately began compiling the data. In charts, equations and schematics, he began analyzing everything.

In her apartment, Leslie did not let herself cry. She showered, dressed, and made breakfast muttering under her breath.

She had gone into it expecting a one-night-stand. She had expected to be making breakfast alone.

She had _not_ expected him to be a virgin, gentle and sweet—and somehow making science jokes and making her to laugh _during_ coitus, something she had not even considered possible. She had _not_ expected to sleep so soundly, and have such sweet dreams.

She_ had not_ expected him to wake her up, yelling at her, to turn into a giant, immature man-child, call her a slut, and blame it all on her as if it had all been a terrible mistake, as if it had been wrong and disgusting.

In the traditional Winkle Woman Way, when stung, she would sting back, harder.

"This means war, Dr. Sheldon _Dumbass_ Cooper." She growled as she stirred her oatmeal with more ferocity than necessary.

As he worked, the night began coming back to him in blurry patches.

The entire thing was a series of firsts for Sheldon, and so his understanding was limited, causing him to do some research. His roommate was surprised by the questions, as were the man he met in the elevator and the mailman he caught at the mailboxes. With the new data, his conclusions were simple.

The Alcohol Factor

Alcohol causes the dominance of primitive male actions, culminating in a complete disregard for logic.

Conclusion of the Alcohol Factor: not to be repeated.

The Sexual Experience

The performance was typical for a young and drunken pair, where the male is inexperienced, and the female experienced and assuming the dominant role.

Expected biochemical reactions:

pleasure

release of endorphins

male ejaculation

female climax

respectable duration

Conclusion of the Sexual Experience: satisfactory

Side Note: typical male behavior in society, in which sex is ranked above everything, including basic human needs, is still unacceptable and a mark of weakness.

The Morning After

The details of this depend on previously agreed upon boundaries by all parties involved, for the purposes of this analysis, assuming the case to be in the category of a one-night stand between one man and one woman.

Cordial conversation

Mature expression of feelings

Polite answers when asked questions about the night

If desired, arrange another date before leaving

Conclusion of the Morning After: Disaster.

Note: The social convention post a relationship disaster is for there to be some form of apology put forth by the party to blame.

The Party to Blame: both parties


	3. Chapter 3

**3. Control**

Leslie was in class, her straight hair a curtain in front of her face as she scribbled as fast as she possibly could, trying to keep up with her professor; her anger forgotten in the wake of long math problems. Movement in the door window made her look up. Sheldon, in kakis and a green lantern t-shirt with white undershirt stood with his messenger bag strung over his head, the band crossing his chest. He fiddled with it as he motioned for her to come out.

She thought about ignoring him, but he looked sincere. She slipped out of the classroom. Crossed her arms as she looked up at him—his height was astounding to her short frame. Both could recall now exactly what had happened between them. An awkward silence stretched to its limit, and her anger welled.

"Good morning," he said clipped.

She said nothing in return.

Not meeting her eye, he spoke, "Alright. I have sought you out in order to put forth an apology for my behavior."

She blinked at him in surprise. He still did not look up, shifting uncomfortably, "I realize that I have acted in a manner that may have offended or hurt you. It was not my intention. I was," His face ticked and he finished, "not in my comfort zone."

She had not been expecting this. He stood with his shoulders slumped and his head bowed. He lifted only his eyes to look at her. "Am I forgiven?"

Damn him, he was so sweet. She sighed, "Yes."

He smiled in relief and remained standing there, all rigid and awkwardness. She was smiling again, and bit her lip. She really had to get back in the classroom—she was missing too much of the lecture.

"Thank you," she said and put a hand on the classroom doorknob.

"Wait!" He cried. "Don't you have something to say to me?"

Her eyebrows shifted inward with confusion. "I have already thanked you for nobly accepting the responsibility of what happened."

"What?" He cried, stepping between her and the door. "I was not accepting responsibility for what happened—I was apologizing for the things I said! You have to apologize for what you did."

"What _I_ did?"

"You got me drunk, after I promised my mother I wouldn't drink, and then you took advantage of me."

"You led me on and then screamed at me the next morning like it was my fault."

"I led you on?" Sheldon echoed, "_I_? Dr. _Sheldon Cooper_?_ I_ led _you_ on?"

"Yes."

He flailed wildly, "All _I_ did was react to a situation unfamiliar to me—I have come here to apologize for that, expecting _you_ to apologize in return for being the one to put _me_ in that situation to begin with, but _this_ is what you say to me—that I should own up to _what I did_?"

"Either you do or you don't." Leslie said, coldly, defensively. She was not ready to deal with this. "Make it fast, I don't have all day."

"I will not." Sheldon said, "It is not in my place to apologize for what happened. I was the victim."

Leslie shrugged, "Then we agree to disagree and you can get out of my way."

Sheldon gaped. Leslie opened the classroom door.

"I am not leaving until you apologize!" He cried. The entire class looked up at them. She shut the door again, red from embarrassment, and turned on him, furious, "Are you seriously demanding that I beg for forgiveness for manipulating you into losing your virginity?"

"Yes!"

She laughed. Sheldon's face was twitching, "What is so funny about that?"

Nothing was funny about it at all, really. She did not know why she was laughing so cruelly. Instead of answering—or apologizing, as she knew she should—she turned to face him, feeling a familiar, but not unwelcome flush of heat from anger,

"I won't beg for your forgiveness, because even someone as smart as you does not get to treat a woman like that."

"Like how?"

"You claim that I was taking advantage of you, but you seemed just fine with it at the time—and then you turned it all on me, started treating it like it was some sordid mistake that ruined your life," the words burned out of her throat and left her stomach feeling empty and boiling at the same time. She did not like talking about bad things in her past, but she had to make this idiot _see_ what he had done to her.

"It was." Sheldon said. Leslie gasped, shocked that he would admit it. He continued, "Getting drunk and entering into coitus with a girl I _barely know_ is not how it is supposed to be done!"

Leslie scoffed, truly angry now, "Is that what this is about? It didn't happen how you always imagined it would? What are you a fifteen-year-old girl? Grow up! Be an adult and realize that this is the twenty-first century and that the old equations of love and romance don't apply anymore."

"Your 'modern day' equations," he hissed, holding her eyes with his blue "are _wrong_. That is not how decent people behave!"

"So are you saying that just because that's your opinion, I'm a slut?"

"Yes."

"Screw you, you social retard!"

"I withdraw my previous apology." He said with his face twitching, "I am not at all sorry for the things I said to you." And he turned on his heel and charged away.

_0000_

The Winkle sisters looked a lot alike. Both had dark brown hair, black eyes, and lacked height. Katie was two years older than Leslie, and taught college Calculus. Barbra and Frank, both devout literature fanatics, were often puzzled at how they could spawn two girls who understood big numbers and actually _enjoyed_ multiplying, dividing, and finding the variable.

Katie put it best when she was picking out her major in college, "I already _know_ literature, Mom. I want to study new things!" But even Katie had been surprised when Leslie had declared she would get her doctorate in experimental _physics_ and help change the way the world looked at things; surprised, but never non supportive.

Katie always detected Leslie's weakness before she did, called the disaster every time, except for the biggest one. Katie had been out-of-town, and so never met Dr. Cooper, but she had returned to find her little sister worse-for-wear.

"I know you, Les." Katie said as they ate chocolate cake-batter and watched classic movies, "You don't burn easily—he must have been a real Mr. Dar—"

"Don't. Even." Leslie cut in, "He is _not_ Mr. Darcy. He is Wickam. He is Whilloby. He is a manipulative jackass that leads someone one and then—"She cut off. The scrape of her spoon on the mixing bowl served as the punctuation at the end of her unfinished sentence.

"Start at the beginning." Katie said.

Leslie sighed, felt like crying a little but did not allow it. "I met him yesterday. He's my age, working there, has already made amazing contributions to science. He _was_ one of my heroes—I didn't know what to expect, but what I found wasn't it."

"Go on."

"He was awkward and eating alone, not paying attention to anything. I talked to him and found that he wasn't shy—in fact he was very forward and even arrogant. When I mentioned my preference for loop quantum gravity, he disagreed and we spent the entire rest of the day debating it."

"Oh, is he as good at debate as you?"

"No, but don't try to tell him that. He wouldn't listen. He would say he was good at it because he was good at it and that was all there was to it."

"No!" Katie said with a laugh, imagining her sister—stubborn, passionate Leslie, butting heads with an arrogant, narrow-minded man who, if it was possible, was as stubborn as she was.

It reminded her a lot of two of the most beloved characters of British literature, but she knew saying as much would not help the situation. If she knew her sister at all, and she knew her better than anyone in the world, than without a doubt Leslie was recognizing the similarities as well.

If things went downhill, no wonder Leslie was so upset that she was one big spoonful away from being sick.

Leslie continued trying to be nonchalant, "I asked him to join me for a drink and he accepted. Then he started telling me why he loved physics—he was getting poetic and passionate about it, you know? He was being really whimsical and then…"

"Then?"

"He made a suggestion so I accepted."

Katie closed her eyes, "Oh, Les, no."

"I know." Leslie moaned, dropping her head back, "_Why am I like this_?"

"Marianne Dashwood." Katie said with an all too knowing nod. "—a pathetic hopeless romantic taking leaps without looking, trusting too easily." Both of them were recalling the tumultuous love affairs of her undergraduate college years.

"I often wonder if Austen realized how many Marianne Dashwoods she was creating when she wrote Mr. Darcy." Katie mused aloud. "We are all so convinced that there's one perfect man out there in the world for us, that we talk ourselves into believing the first charming man we meet to be him."

"Anyway," Leslie said, stirring the cake batter pointlessly and speaking softly, so Katie knew the bad part was coming. "I brought him back here and we were fooling around."

"Were you drunk?"

"Not very," Leslie admitted. She sighed. "So there I was, convinced he was everything I could want—smart, funny, attractive, strangely adorable in a dorky way, and kind. I was only playing with the idea of actually sleeping with him, but then he went and sold me on the idea."

"What did he say?"

"He was a virgin and didn't know what to do."

Katie gasped and sat the mixing bowl down harder than necessary, whirling to face her sister, "NO!"

Leslie nodded.

Katie tossed her head back, her chest swelling in a giant sigh as she imagined what it would be like to encounter a _true_ Mr. Darcy—so hard to come by outside of high school anymore.

Leslie continued, skating over the details of what followed—that was her business—and picked up at the disaster scene. "The next morning he was different."

"Cold and disinterested." Katie said.

"No, not at all."

Katie frowned.

"He was _freaking_ out like a crazy person. He was calling it all a mistake, blaming it on me, called me a slut and said I probably gave him an STD. He puked all over the bathroom, said I wasn't worthy because I wasn't as smart as he was."

"Oh. My. God."

"I threw him out."

"What a prick."

"I know."

Katie hugged her tightly, "Oh, Leslie, you're right. He was a real tool—a Mr. Whilloby of Allanum, trampling over feelings without a second thought. You're better without him."

"I know I am. He's not who I thought he was at all."

_0000_

Both were stubborn, both had wounded prides. Neither wanted to think about what had happened that night ever again. Her classes were in a completely different part of the building from where he worked. They only saw each other occasionally in the cafeteria. She changed her hair, gave it a permanent curl, and she now wore glasses and sweatshirts. Sheldon did not change in the slightest—not counting an influx with his germ problem. Neither approached each other, merely shot daggered looks from across the cafeteria.

Not long after what happened, Sheldon came home to find a lot of noise coming through the wall as his roommate entertained someone. It was not the first time this ever happened, but it _was_ the first time it bothered Sheldon. To put it simply, he had a master's and two PhD's; he should _not_ have to deal with it.

Among scheduling tests for disease, buying Leslie at-home pregnancy tests (which she threw into his face) and finding out that no one shook a finger or made phone calls when a man his age bought condoms, Sheldon made time to draw up an amendment to the Roommate Agreement. _Advanced notice must be given if a girl is going to stay over._

Upon presenting this new section of the contract, Sheldon became in need of a new roommate and met Leonard Hofstadter, a graduate student still two years away from receiving his first PhD. Although some of his answers for the interview questions were less than desirable, there was something about him; he never once pulled the kind of faces that the others did upon hearing of his rules. It was almost as if Leonard was already used to such structure and logic. He seemed to accept Sheldon, reminding him of his brother, and so he gave him the room.

One near death experience later, in which Sheldon saved the day, and the apartment building elevator was broken beyond the building's budget, something of a friendship sprang between them.

With Leonard came a wave of changes. Sheldon had to get _real_ furniture. Leonard made him see that keeping all of his action figures locked in a storage unit was not practical and so he had to find the right spot for _all_ of them. Leonard began eating at Sheldon's table in the cafeteria, and with him came another student named Raj, and an engineer named Howard, who had both witnessed the rocket fuel incident. He did not particularly enjoy either of them, but tolerated them for Leonard's sake, so long as they did not sit in his spot or whistle or make fun of trains.

They talked him into eating the cafeteria food, insisting that it would not kill him. Their _constant_ need to "go out and do something fun" led to the construction of a weekly schedule that included paintball, video games, comic books, and movies. Sheldon enjoyed cooking, his Meemaw taught him to do it well, but the varying likes, dislikes, allergies and intolerances of the group made it too much of a hassle, so he had to inspect and research local restaurants until he found a satisfyingly varied selection.

He continued to avoid Leslie in the cafeteria, not because of any sense of embarrassment or guilt, but because he had not missed that she still leveled cold eyes on him and said mean things to him whenever she got a chance. He rather thought this was a sign that she was being immature and that she ought just to let it go, but saying as much received him a painful knee in the groin, and her assurance that she _was_ over it. He never brought it up again and eventually, her cold looks and mean words happened less and less.

Leslie began to feel like a callous against her life. She had been warned that the world of physics was a male-dominate field, but each warning had been more like a compliment for her own daring, encouraging her to go after what she wanted. And she wanted this—it was quite a change from family tradition, entering into worlds of science instead of literature, but Leslie loved a challenge.

The cutting edge of physics was the kind of mental push-ups that she just could not get out of reading analyses of the American and British literature that her parents doctored in, but she'd had no idea that being one of three working female scientists in the whole of the experimental physics department would be so tiring.

There seemed to be no end to the knobs who thought that her breasts were worth starring at for hours at a time; who thought that she could not do the heavy lifting or the fast math. Proving them wrong took backbone and a complete confidence in herself that she hadn't quiet developed yet.

It was hard in the beginning—very hard—for Leslie to ignore the subtle vibes for attention, the flirtations, and the compliments. She always wanted to believe they were sincere. Smart men who could make her feel beautiful had always been Leslie's personal kryptonite, but all it took was one mistake in that regard for her to build the proper walls around her heart. That kind of stuff belonged in the storybooks. In the real world—_especially_ the world of science—the ideals of love were naïve.

It took years to develop the type of image and reputation that made the men shut-up and listen and keep their hands to themselves, but Leslie worked herself into a comfortable niche, taking on lovers when she wanted them and discarding them when she was finished. She tried to make sure to be smarter or stronger than those she let close; she had to maintain control of the relationship.

It was just easier that way.

Over the course of the next six years, Sheldon put in a good word for Leonard and Raj, securing the two of them jobs at the University with himself and Howard. Not an all-together selfless act, as it ensured that the three young men stayed in Pasadena, no drastic changes in the routine Sheldon had grown accustomed to, and he avoided drastic changes whenever possible.

Leslie graduated with Leonard and found a job in the same lab and work often pushed Sheldon and her together. They shared the cafeteria, passed one another in the halls, and saw one another at staff meetings and parties, but spoke as little as possible. Sheldon ignored her along with everyone else, and she did not mind; all was amiable.

Leonard dated occasionally, but as per the newest amendment of the Roommate Agreement, he was required to give advanced notice if the girl was spending the night and so it never disrupted Sheldon's life.

Then a perky young waitress/actress named Penny moved in next door. She was nice—a scathing indictment of the public school system—but nice. Leonard began planning on having smart and beautiful children with her, and she became a new member of the group.

Thus began the ripples in the calm of Sheldon's new routine.

Suddenly Klingon Boggle was no longer fun or cool enough for them, and Sheldon had to constantly fight for his seat—fortunately, she was a push over in the matter, at least in the beginning. The entire thing was causing stress, and the stress caused the return of the kind of compulsions Sheldon had bested in his undergraduate years.

He now had to knock three times on any door, he could not step on a crack in the sidewalk, and he felt like his ribs were being crushed if he had to ride the bus with no seatbelts.

After many failed attempts to procreate with the waitress who smelled like vanilla or coconut, Leonard was proving to be useless and annoying unless he found someone to sleep with, so Sheldon decided to give him some help, to save his own sanity.

He had just a few days previous, noticed that Leslie had started shaving her legs. (It had been apparent that she did not for months before hand.)

Since Sheldon had met her, Leslie had changed from a neat and orderly girl succumbing to the cultural dictations of beauty to an angry woman who did not even brush her hair thoroughly some days. He remembered her hair being perfectly straight, but now it hung in messy curls. She wore glasses, too, instead of the contacts that had made her eyes shine so brightly. She was hardly the same Leslie that had plunked down at his lunch table seven years ago with a smile and praise for his genius. In fact, it was not the same Leslie at all; this was Dr. Leslie Winkle.

Sheldon never would have noticed she had shaved had she not been wearing a skirt and sitting on the brick wall in front of the university with her legs stretched out in the California sunlight as she read a tattered book.

He never would have linked the detail with anything of a sexual nature except that, upon seeing it, six-year-old memories sprang to mind, vivid memories of those legs straddling him, smooth (as they appeared to be now) under his shaking fingers.

Without missing a beat in his stride or even losing his place in reciting the digits of Pi as he often did on the way to work, he had simply cursed his eidetic memory, assumed she was on the lookout for more _booty-calls_, and went on with life.

Passing the information on to Leonard was his attempt to ensure Leonard with a conquest. Leslie would be easy—he would not even have to do anything. Ensured sexual intercourse would help Leonard's confidence, something sorely lacking.

As he gave the short man the idea to pursue Leslie, Sheldon felt a brief twinge of guilt, wondering which category his actions fell under; helping a friend "score," or betraying a friend by not telling him about his experience with the cruel girl. He chose the first one; it was absolutely no one's business what he did in private, especially in private six years ago.

When Leonard returned with the news that he had asked her, she had proposed a kiss and "the world had not moved," Sheldon had felt the oddest feeling of personal triumph.

Extremely curious, as he had done absolutely nothing, but it was gone as soon as it came and so he logged it away and began dealing with the much more pressing matter at hand; that Leonard was going to sink into what had become a familiar pattern of depression.

He had not known it then, but Leslie Winkle was not finished traipsing through his neatly ordered life just.


	4. Chapter 4

**4. ****Clash of the Titans**

It was Big Boy Tuesday and they were making him go to the _Cheesecake Factory_. Absurd, but they were the ones with the car keys. Sheldon had no doubts that the entire disruption of his life was yet another frantic attempt of his best friend to achieve a sexual relationship with Penny. Again, absurd, but Leonard was a slave to his penis before all else.

Sheldon understood that it was a cultural convention to show support for these quests. He tried, but it was never ending and such relationships between others truly did not interest him.

He was sitting there, thinking that all he wanted was a Big Boy Burger.

"Oh, hey Leonard, hey guys."

Dr. Leslie Winkle was standing at the table, smiling amiably at all of them and asking Leonard if he would fill in for Elliot Wong in her string quartet. Sheldon heard it all with one ear, paid it no mind, finding the dilemma of his upset meal schedule much more important.

_0000_

Leslie liked Elliot, he was what she was looking for in a man: smart (but not too smart,) cute-enough, and easily controlled; plus he played cello, which was a bonus. She loved string music. When he called about his radiation problem, she was severely disappointed. Her life had been so comfortable. Work was going great, and she had managed to find and piece together a full quartet to keep her busy outside of the lab—either with music or with drinks.

She had the most fun with Elliot, but when he started getting to close, she just rotated to the viola player, and when that one got too attached, she moved on to the other violinist—one revolution through the group usually got her from one holiday season to the next. That is if they followed her rules and stayed casual for as long as possible. She knew them. She was happy. Or at least, happy-enough.

Now without Wong, she had a gaping hole in her calendar. The prospect of spending New Year's alone was too depressing to accept a temporary cancelation of the quartet. She would just have to find a new cellist and start him in the rotation.

The problem was there were not that many cellists in the area. So it had felt like a divine sign when she had walked into the Cheesecake Factory to see Leonard was there. She recalled learning he played a little cello, and he was handsome and willing, or was, so she approached him and invited him to join her group.

_0000_

Later that week, Sheldon stood frowning at Leonard's bedroom door. The muffled sounds of a Brian Adams CD came through it. A tie hung from the knob. Sheldon had seen the tie, of course, but had put his hand on the doorknob anyway, thinking nothing of it, but right before turning the knob, it occurred to him that maybe it was some form of semiotics, though rack his brain as he might, he could not recall ever learning what a tie meant.

He sought help. Penny's explanation enlightened him greatly; though distressed him equally so. There had been no advanced warning as agreed upon, and Sheldon had no plans to be elsewhere! Penny left him alone, and he sank onto his spot in an attempt to continue his life normally as advised to do.

It was no use. He had not been forced to share an apartment with a couple commencing in coitus in five and a half years. He found the disruption of the norm to be vastly unsettling. What was more he had far too much nervous energy, and he did not know what to do with himself. He had planned to spend the rest of the evening reorganizing his comic book collection, but there was no way he could be in his room right now, the wall between his and Leonard's room was far too thin.

He cursed his eidetic memory and his Vulcan hearing, and then cursed his body, wishing not for the first time he could be a creature solely of mind with no body to hinder him with hunger, exhaustion, pain, or—this.

He fell asleep on the couch watching the extended version of the Fellowship of the Ring and hours later, woke abruptly out of a dream that had involved far too many flowery-smelling things, elastic waist bands, and smooth legs, but also—strangely—violins, radiation hazard suits and Big Boy hamburgers.

He stood and wondered if Leslie was still in Leonard's room. On the way to the kitchen, he paused in front of his board. Something was wrong. A second look proved it. The sign in the beta function of quantum chromo dynamics had been changed!

Half of a panic attack later —saved by the realization that the mysterious change of sign had actually _helped_ him—a much shorter brown haired and bespectacled figure breezed out of the hallway, leaving a waft of flowery scents in her wake as she quipped, "Your welcome!"

"_You_ did this?"

"Yep," she said, "Now you can see that quarks are asymptotically free at high energies, pretty cool, huh?

"Who gave you permission to touch my board?"

"No one."

"I don't go into your house and touch _your_ board!" He cried.

"There are no wrong equations on my board." She said evenly.

"Oh," The anger that was welling up inside of him was taking up too much space and making it hard to arrange his thoughts properly, "that is just so…" He could not find the word.

She left before he could.

"Inconsiderate!" He pulled out his phone and texted it to her.

She texted back:

**Who is significantly behind whom in intelligence now, dumbass? Be sure to let them know I contributed when they nominate us for the Nobel Prize.**

He replied:

**There is no WE, and your name-calling combined with a reference to a comment I made six years ago tells me that you assume my anger had something to do with your being with Leonard. That is not the case. **

**PEOPLE DO NOT TOUCH MY BOARD!**

She replied:

**If I had not changed the sign, then you would have never solved the equation. The Committee will agree with me. It will be OUR Nobel Prize.**

He replied:

**You got lucky.**

She replied:

**Just admit I saw something you didn't.**

He replied:

**I would have seen it eventually.**

She replied:

**Maybe, but I saw it first.**

He replied:

**If you are so desperate for success that you are going to piggy back on my work and stake a claim where it does not belong, perhaps you have chosen the wrong career.**

She replied:

**My work is going more places than yours.**

He replied:

**Your work in high-energy electrons is a lost cause. You should just give it up and seek something at which you will succeed. In my opinion, you could never do better than giving up work completely and getting married. Perhaps your offspring will have what you lack, and will actually contribute to society. I am assuming laundry and other household chores are not TOO great a challenge for you.**

She replied:

**SEXIST JACKASS**

As she pushed open the door to the bookstore with her shoulder, Leslie sent the last text, closed the phone and cursed Dr. Sheldon Cooper for coming into her life. After a fun and satisfying night with Leonard, Leslie had padded softly to the kitchen in search of water to find that the TV was on displaying the DVD menu of The Fellowship of the Ring. Sheldon was asleep on the couch.

She turned off the TV and got her water, trying not to think about what it would have been like to fall asleep in his arms again, this time waking up next to that sweet face in a natural and peaceful way.

It was too bad that the man was such an arrogant psychopath.

She had stopped in front of his whiteboard, curious about his work. Upon realizing what it was, she had been impressed that he would even think of taking on the problem, but that was an arrogant theoretical physicist for you. Perhaps it was because she came into it unexpectedly, with a fresh mind and a fresh eye, but she saw the error in the sign, fixed it, and went to bed.

She never thought he would be so outraged by it, and his tone as he shouted at her reminded her too much of something she preferred to keep off her mind, so she replied, attacking him in the only way she knew how—with proof that he was not as perfect as he believed he was.

As perfect as she once let herself—however briefly—think he was.

_0000_

As it occasionally happened, Leonard wanted to go at a faster rate of speed than Leslie was willing to undertake. He wanted complete intimacy—the idea seemed to similar to that naïve dream of finding the perfect One. She had to put on the breaks—maintain control of the situation. She felt bad for the guy, but she wasn't looking for a relationship like he wanted. He could not handle the heat and lost interest. It was all the same for Leslie. She was fine with being alone, at least between holidays.

The quartet was over. She would just have to deal. She did this by spending a lot more time in the bookstore.

Six weeks after his awkward goodbye in her lab, Leslie was swallowing a quick lunch when Leonard and his friends approached her. He had avoided her at all costs, even going so far as to opt out of a free ticket to a symposium with the lab team, all because of their history in the bedroom and its sudden ending. She really hadn't meant to hurt him, but what was she supposed to do? If she let Leonard call the shots, then word would have spread around and her reputation would have been lost.

He was nervous and awkward as he came to her table in the lunchroom, and she suffered an irrational thought:

Why can't more men be as confident as Sheldon?

That thought—_that_ Sheldon-was not real, just the projections and assumptions of a naïve girl, and like all things to do with that embarrassing mishap, it was quickly blasted by her most powerful laser, but as always, it only left her annoyed. She did not have time for this—she wanted to get back to the solitary of her lab. She assured Leonard that all details were protected by the inherent confidentiality of the bedroom (duh) and he finally got on to his point.

It sounded like fun, but she wanted to focus on her like sign dilepton super symmetry search—that was, until she learned who was on the opposing team.

"_Sheldon Cooper_?"

Oh, she was in. She would do anything to beat that arrogant misogynistic East Texas doorknob, if it was the last thing she did.

_0000_

"Leslie Winkle," Sheldon said, anger hard in his voice.

She was smiling up at him with her usual smile, the smile that promised venom would be laced in her next words.

"Yes," she said wickedly, "the answer to the question 'Who made Sheldon Cooper cry like a little girl?'"

Sheldon's eye twitched; and he remembered that she _still_ owed him an undershirt.

"Well, I am polymerized tree sap and you are an inorganic adhesive so whatever verbal projectile you launch in my direction is reflected off of me, returns on its original trajectory, and adheres to you," he said, every muscle in his body tense and shaking with anger.

His words were clear and enunciated, under tight control, just like everything about him, down to the exact and measured placements of the Velcro straps on his wrist guard.

Leslie did not like using her best insults on such wide targets. "Oh, ouch…"

His eye twitched again. Leslie was pleased to see that even that—a smoke bomb compared to the artillery she had in reserve for him—could crack his control.

Gablehouser called the crowd to order and started the game. It was a close competition, and though she would not admit it aloud, she was impressed that the dumbass could keep up with a full team all alone.

She had let her dislike of him color her opinion of his genius. Reluctantly, she allowed that he was the smartest individual in the room—only as far a physics went, of course—but then it happened. She witnessed, first-hand account, Dr. Sheldon _Dumbass_ Cooper did not have the answer. He was not a perfect as he thought he was.

Victory was sweet.


	5. Chapter 5

**5. The Time for Change**

It was not often that Sheldon could not sleep. Usually he counted things, or recited Beowulf silently from memory and sleep came easily. However, his recent defeat in the physics bowl was a gnawing ache in his stomach. He hated being wrong, because when he was wrong, he could not sleep and when he could not sleep; his mind inevitably began betraying him by pulling up memories best left alone.

Ever since reaching puberty, Sheldon had controlled sexual desire with a tenacious will power, overpowering such thoughts, shoving them into drawers in his mind, which he then stuffed into corners and returned his thoughts to science. This Mode of Operation was serving him well; he had been just _fine_ until Leslie Winkle manhandled him. Ever since then, sadly, locking naughty thoughts into drawers was a bit like hiding away a single little shining bulb, like the kind on Christmas tree lights, and the world seemed noticeably darker without it.

Unlike his compatriots, he did not have an over-developed sex drive. In fact, he was usually so engrossed in math or comic books that he did not notice anyone, even the women around him. But that being said, he did still have eyes and he did still watch cable television shows.

Most days, Sheldon leaned on science, delved his mind deep into math problems and theories, pushing the very boundaries of knowledge and he gave not a single thought toward much else. Other days, however, it was not so easy.

Sometimes he would watch a movie or see a TV show in which two people were deliriously in love and heating up the screen with their passion, and he would feel a pang—a sense of loneliness. This he quickly wrote off with a reminder that science came first, and science required the devotion of his entire life, and he did not need anything beyond comic books and his friends.

He liked to think of himself as a kind of monk, a Jedi, and science was his creed, his Order. If anything threatened it, away it went into a drawer and on with life he went. If his mind wanted to linger on things, he simply would not allow it. One thing he learned early on in life was that he could make his mind do anything.

Mind over matter now back to the math, even if the whole world seems to be in love.

He was too used to ignoring it to notice it, but locked away in a drawer was a pale and sun deprived thought, a little whisper as fragile as a snowflake that occasionally gave a feeble, muffled little call in the late hours of sleepless nights. _Sleepless nights would not be so bad with someone next to you_.

_0000_

The failure of her string quartet—and the kind of safety net they presented—had forced Leslie into the real and ugly world outside the science department's dating pool. She had never truly hunted outside of the university before. She found that men of average intelligence grated on her nerves. Half of them did not understand what it was an experimental physicist did, and the rest were intimidated by her job title. It could have been a big problem, if she was looking for a real relationship.

Fortunately, she needed only something to keep the demons away and it was not hard to find what she was looking for. Compared to average women, she was forward, tough, and to-the-point, something so required to survive in the physics department that it had never occurred to Leslie that it set her apart.

She made it through the holidays that Elliot had hoped to help her through, and though the situation was not as ideal as her string quartet, she did not see the need, at first, to stop what had become a customary prowl through the local bars.

Leslie was shaken awake, and someone shoved her cell phone in her face. "Answer it already," he said, half-asleep and annoyed. He shoved it closer to her ear. The ringtone was incessantly loud and annoying. She snatched it out of Dave's hand, thanking him for the deafening, and blinked at the blurry words on her screen.

The name on the caller-id was short, so she knew it had to say either WORK or MOM, but without her glasses she couldn't actually read it. Still highly annoyed by the rude waking, and now slightly panicked by the prospect of being caught by her mother in such a situation—she locked herself in Dave's bathroom for some privacy as she answered.

"Hello?" she asked, trying to keep the pain of her hangover out of her voice.

"Hi, Les," it was her mother. "Where are you?"

Not for the first time, Leslie wondered if her mother did not already know—the woman seemed to only ask that question when Leslie was in a man's bedroom. She licked her lips. "Just at home," she caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror and realized she had no clothes on. She grabbed a towel from the rack, "getting ready for the day. What's up?"

"I'm in town, and thought we could have a girl's day out together. Are you free?"

Leslie was surprised at how much she actually wanted to go. "Yes, I am. That'll be great. I'll meet you at the mall?"

"Well, I'm just down the street from your apartment, actually, I was at the Starbucks. I'll just meet you at the door."

"Oh—" Leslie stomped her bare heel into the cold tile of the bathroom floor and clonked the phone against her forehead, only adding to the turmoil of her headache. "Cool, see you there, I guess." She said casually.

Her mother's laugh was full of love as she hung up. The woman never had to put any of the conventional emotions into words; that laugh conveyed it all—_Okay, great, can't wait to see you. Love you_.

Leslie had not inherited that special trait form her mother. Perhaps that was the reason she was uncomfortable expressing her feelings; no one had taught her how exactly.

She turned off the phone and exited the bathroom. Dave's bed was a pull-out from the couch in the living room, and it was a mess of plastic cups and people. Leslie felt ashamed as she sorted through the clothes and found her own. How much had she had to drink last night? She could not remember anything beyond agreeing to go to Dave's party. She did not even know which one was Dave—she only assumed it was the man in the bed.

A shiver of mild disgust shook through her body. What had she _done_? She suddenly needed to brush her teeth and take a shower. That, combined with the Tequila, had her stomach turning. Bile was rising in her throat. She dressed quickly and left, so focused on not blowing chunks that one little persistent memory wouldn't manifest itself beyond a subconscious desire _not_ to vomit all over Dave's bathroom, like the last dumbass she let in her house had.

She stopped at Starbucks and got a black coffee before meeting her mother were she said she would, though Barbra was expecting her to come down the stairs instead of through the door from the street.

Barbra, a taller heavier version of Leslie minus the curly hair, turned to smile cordially at one her daughter's neighbors as they entered the building, only to find that it was Leslie herself.

"Hey, Mom," she said as casually as she could.

Barbra's mouth dropped. "Leslie Winkle!" She cried. "Where have you been? I've been waiting nearly an hour!"

"Sorry, Mom, I had to get a coffee."

Barbra rolled her lips and crossed her arms uncomfortably, shifting her purse. "Leslie, where you with a—a man?"

Leslie cringed. Some questions shouldn't be asked by women like Barbra Winkle. "Geez, Mom, don't say it like that!"

"And how am I supposed to say it? You won't tell me the names of any of your—boyfriends." The plural words were awkward, and the term 'boyfriends' was filled with hope—the desperate hope that it applied, at most, to only two men.

It sounded so incorrect that Leslie could not stop herself from correcting it, and in the true Winkle fashion, she did it with bold face confidence and indifference. The condescension she had picked up in the work place. "Yuck, Mom, please, I'm not looking for a relationship."

Barbra looked heartbroken; like just like that, the princess she had raised was gone. "Why ever not?"

Leslie shrugged. "Who needs the trouble?"

"Trouble? Since when is caring for another person trouble, Leslie Winkle?"

"Stop with the full name bit, please. I'm not a child to be disciplined."

Barbra looked at her daughter as if she looked at a stranger, and then she shook her head. "I'm no expert, honey, but the demands of the kind of life you seem to be leading sounds like more trouble than building a relationship of trust and understanding would be."

Leslie frowned, feeling that shame she had beaten into submission stand back to its full height. "Really?"

Barbra nodded, smiling now because of the hope the situation suddenly had. "Really," she brushed Leslie's unwashed hair behind her ear and stroked her face.

"Let's go shop for something and talk about it—do you need anything? Shoes? Jackets? Pants? Skirts?"

Leslie smiled and laughed to herself, feeling like she was in grade-school again during the back-to-school sale. That was the thing about working in a university. Barbra understood it as her daughter never leaving school, and thereby still being a just a girl. The problem was she was a woman, and should be expected to act like one.

…though, if Leslie had to say it, the Winkle idea of a woman was not booty-calls, drunken orgies and lonely breakfasts, but handwritten letters, chaperoned balls, and elegant dinners.

She held the warm Styrofoam cup in both hands for some security as she looked inwards for the first time in a while. Suddenly, Leslie wondered what the hell she was doing with her life, and how had it strayed so far from the ideal she'd had for herself in high school? The promise that she had made to find someone… _worthy_.

The familiarity of the word physically hurt.

"Why don't you want someone consistent in your life?" Barbra asked as they held dresses against themselves in front of large mirrors. Leslie had not bought a new dress in forever—had not worn one in ages. It felt good to find something cute on the rack only to find that it was cuter on her—or would be, once she'd showered.

Leslie sighed. "I don't know, Mom, it's complicated," she said. It actually was not that complicated. She was not going to be hurt again. She just did not know how to say that.

She recognized that this was the opportunity—_just say it,_ she thought,_ I can't be hurt like that again_—but the words wouldn't come out.

The best she could do was a heart-weary sigh and a pathetic shrug, but that, somehow, conveyed it all to Barbra. Like magic, Leslie had said everything without saying anything.

"Oh, honey," her mother said, dropping her handful of hangers onto the changing bench to hug Leslie tightly. The happiness she felt from the hug was as much as a surprise as the one she had gotten from the unexpected invitation for a mother-daughter day, and it felt infinitely better. Leslie had had no idea how lost and lonely she had become.

Her mother rocked her and let her cry for a minute or two, and then stroked her hair and released her with a watery smile. "There now, you're still you. You were just gone for a little while."

They smiled at each other. Leslie nodded, wiping her nose. Barbra supplied a tissue—something the woman always had on her since she read such heartwarming books all day every day.

"I know what you need." Barbra said wisely.

In the bookstore, Leslie felt her shoulders relax. Whenever she was surrounded by the walls of books she felt safe. This was a silence that could never ever feel lonely. She let her mother put a paperback novel plastered with Keira Knightley's face in her hands. She smiled at the title. "Pride and Prejudice? Mom, I already have this book."

"Sometimes it has to be brand new for the message to sink in right." Barbra said, again with her knowing nod. Leslie gave in—her copy was older than she was and falling apart anyway—and she flipped the book over to read the summary on the back.

Leslie made it home finally, bags full of a new wardrobe for the New Leslie. The conclusion of the mother-daughter day was this: happiness was not as biochemical as the scientist in Leslie wanted to believe. Despite living on her own and working in a male-dominate work-place, she was still the girl her mother and father raised, the one who wanted the fairy-tale ending—modernized of course, but still, happily ever after.


	6. Chapter 6

**6. Of All the Physicists in All the Labs in All the World….**

Leslie's phone vibrated and she checked it once the laser was shut off. It was a text from Wolowitz. She read it and chuckled. It was like some kind of sign. The day after she decided she had to stop fooling around and get her life in order, she got a random message informing her that Leonard Hofstadter was single again. Leonard was a decent man, who had wanted a relationship to begin with…had given her two shots already. She decided to give him the old college try. Third time's the charm….

"Hello Leonard," she said as she approached the table beside the vending machines. He was sitting with Sheldon, as always. "Hey dummy," she said to him, unable, suddenly, to maintain the unspoken agreement to ignore one another. Considering her intentions with his roommate, she felt she had to address him, but there was no need to be nice.

He tucked in his elbows, his jaw clenching. "Hello to you …insufficiently intelligent person." He knew he was not hitting his mark, and didn't make eye contact. It was priceless. Leslie wondered why she did not attack him more often. It was deeply satisfying.

"Oooh rush me to the burn unit," she said superiorly, making Leonard laugh. She sat down without invitation. "Leonard, I have to ask you something."

Sheldon began moving the moment she pulled out the chair. "Well, excuse me, I'm going to do work that promises significant results, unlike what you do," he said, looking down at her, "Which does not."

Leslie bristled against the remark and glared up at him. She had gotten used to socializing with men who did not know what it was she did all day. It was a jolt to have her work mentioned, let alone insulted.

"Yeah you heard me," he said, assuming the superiority of the moment. Leslie did not have time to come up with a slicing insult to hurl at him before he made it unnecessary by dropping his tray. He threw it back into the designated spot and charged out of the cafeteria with his silverware and napkin in his fist.

Leslie looked at Leonard. "Wow," she said. Her pulse had quickened. An irrational nervousness was causing her hands to sweat. It had been so long since she had asked out a man for any other purpose than stress-release. She was beating back memories of the last time she had done this with a stick, but they kept standing up and telling her not to _ever_ hit them.

"So I heard your relationship with Penny crashed to the ground like blue ice falling out of an airplane lavatory."

"Where did you hear that?"

"Actually I read it. Wolowitz texted me," she showed him the text from earlier. He read it aloud, surprised that she had not been joking. After a brief exchange on the topic, she bit the bullet and got down to business. She was in no place, however, to abandon scientific Leslie completely for the new, and worded her request with the cool detachment of a science project. "So I was thinking we could revisit our former attachment…"

_0000_

Checking the mailbox, Sheldon saw that sometimes mothers _could_ make it all better. Mary had called the day before and could tell that her Shelly was in low spirits, what with his unreasonable block in his work—well, what he considered a block, anyway. Plus the Ren-fair had been a historically incorrect _disaster_. He hurried upstairs with the package, finding Leonard home and arranging the coffee table.

"Hey, guess what? Mom sent my old Nintendo 64. You know what this means don't you? Break out the Red Bull, we're rockin' Mario old school tonight."

He began setting up the game console, his mind sweeping happily over the time he had pernicious anemia, left alone in his room to beat each level one by one. He had never got to finish—having accidently beaten the anemia before the game and having to go back to work. The failure had gnawed at him for eight years. The idea of vanquishing that torment was so uplifting Sheldon could have sung.

What he ended up doing, however, was sitting in the lobby of the building, playing Super Mario on a poorly coded Nintendo 64 emulator. He had no other option, since he was not allowed to be in the apartment during Leonard's date and he could not go to the movies with no one to perform the Heimlich maneuver.

Penny stopped to bother him on her way out, smelling heavily of feminine musk—but the effect was ruined by the sickeningly sweet smell of her candy-apple soap. During her questioning, the door opened and in walked none other than Leslie Winkle. She wore a colorful dress, and carried a purse, something that Sheldon had never seen her do in all seven years of their acquaintance.

The slight mystery that had shrouded the evening was now gone—so _this_ was the result of their lunch together last Wednesday. His embarrassment from dropping the tray still made his stomach tighten. It was rare in Sheldon's life that he got the winning quip with his enemies. He had felt so powerful, only to lose it all due to the heartless bitch of gravity.

"Hey, Penny. Dumbass," Leslie said brightly.

Anger boiled through Sheldon's blood. The old insult was always made new when it landed on new ears. Most everyone at the university had heard it as many times as Sheldon had, but Penny was outside of that, being so pathetically _average_.

"Leslie Winkle," he said, unaware that he was thinking aloud. In Leslie's wake, he had caught a whiff of the Chanel that she wore for special occasions, like black-tie office parties—he thought it was a little formal for a stress-release meeting.

The dress, the purse, the smell, and Leonard's constant desire to be in a real relationship made the purposes of the evening suddenly very clear to Sheldon. He felt his back tense and his fingers tightened around the computer in his lap.

"Of all the overrated physicists in all the labs in _all the world_, why does it have to be Leslie Winkle?"

His question to the universe pertained to one instance of happiness that he had not acknowledged since its occurrence, a memory of a lonely lunch made suddenly better by the acquisition of a friend with a smiling face and glowing praise of his work, highlighted by just such a dab of Chanel.

Sheldon saw in a brief glimpse of clarity in the chaos of the social realm, how someone as un-intelligent as Penny might interpret Leslie's scorn—the female intuition, though just a simple manifestation of the collective unconscious—often struck Sheldon growing up as another type of magic; a magic that Penny, for simply being a woman, possessed and could use to discover his secret.

The memory of a stinging slap across his face had been buried deep in the past, but when he realized he had spoken aloud, suddenly it was close to the surface. He became worried that Penny would discover everything.

She did not notice anything. "Well, they have a lot in common," she was saying stupidly—misunderstanding Sheldon's small rant to be about Leonard's choice in a date. "They're both scientists—"

"Please," Sheldon said, "The only way she could make a contribution to science is if they resume sending chimps into space." It was harsh, but it served the purpose of severing the past's hold on the moment.

Penny soon left for her own date—the catalyst, Sheldon was suddenly sure, that led to Leonard's spontaneous date and his failure to uphold his end of the roommate agreement to give a week's notice of such occasions.

It was not fair. He was supposed to be having a good time playing Nintendo, but no. That was no longer an option thanks to the whole world deciding suddenly that Saturday night was date night—whatever the hell kind of logic that was.

_0000_

Leslie had not been expecting Sheldon to be on the staircase with his laptop like it was a typical place of his. She was baffled by the new evidence of his craziness. People talked at work, Howard liked to spread around his horror stories of life with Sheldon Cooper, but Leslie had observed nothing beyond the same OCD tendencies she had first recognized.

When she saw him through the glass of the door, she slowed but did not stop. He probably needed quiet, or the right temperature, or some other compulsive need like that—surely he wasn't waiting there to meet her before her date with Leonard?

She was rattled on her way up the stairs. However unlikely it was that Sheldon would admit her as his dirty little secret, there was a chance that, had Leonard informed Sheldon on the news that they were now in a committed relationship, Sheldon would have then given a good reason why they should not be.

It really depended on how much Sheldon cared about friendship and the traditional expectation of friends to stay away from ex-girlfriends.

Not that she was anything like an ex-girlfriend of Sheldon Cooper's.

But the rule still applied, probably, in this special circumstance, since his virginity was involved and he was such little girl about that kind of thing.

She knocked on the door and when Leonard answered, she studied his initial behavior, looking for clues that said he was planning on breaking up with her in order to up hold the code of friendship, because Leonard _was_ the exact type to do that for a friend.

There were none. She bashed herself for being paranoid and realized she had started to do it again—she had started thinking of him as the wrong Sheldon. To kill the imaginary, perfect Sheldon that she had originally taken him for, she mentioned casually the dumbass on the stairs. Leonard laughed and said it was video game night, and that he had nowhere else to go.

Leslie laughed too, but a small bite of regret made itself known in her stomach. She could see the half-set up Ninetendo 64. Video games sounded like more fun than the candle-lit dinner Leonard had arranged nicely in the living room (in accordance to her suggestions.) She wished Leonard had been a little more casual for their first date and invited her to play teams instead. She felt like kicking some turtle ass.

Conversation, if at all, was light. There was not a lot to talk about; she already knew a lot about Leonard from their work in the labs, and bringing up the latest novel she had read about the civil war seemed too random for the mood of the night. Talking about the romance between two different ethnicities in a time of war required a deeper understanding of one another for it to be at all a stimulating conversation.

Her mind roved over her decision to be here. Her mother was right. She had to commit to one person. It was time to settle down, but, no matter what her mother said, she couldn't get lost in that dream of the passionate love affair she'd hoped for when she was younger because it just wasn't possible. Happiness and love and all of that other stuff was just brain chemistry, easily simulated.

She just needed a suitable partner. Someone tolerable, who could help her give her father the grandbabies he was always asking about. She would not mind teething rings and building blocks. It could be fun. Following this train of thought, she asked Leonard how many children they should have, and he choked on his orange chicken.

Perhaps she should not have worded the question to include herself—she'd really only been curious to know how many children he wanted one day, to see if it corresponded with her number.

"I'm sorry, there's a lot of stuff to talk about before reproduction."

"I sure hope so," Leonard said, his tone echoing Leslie's earlier feelings that they really had nothing to talk about besides work. To prevent another lull from falling, she asked another question that she wanted answered, "Besides shortness, what genetic weaknesses run in your family?"

Someone barged into the apartment then, shedding glaring white light into the dim candle-lit atmosphere; it was Sheldon with his eyes on the floor as he hurried to the kitchen with an indifferent, "I'm sorry to interrupt. Battery's dying. Continue."

Leonard was able to, though Leslie would not have minded if he had waited the three minutes it would take for Sheldon to get what he needed and leave.

"Uh, genetic weakness, right. Um, there's the lactose intolerance."

"Not to mention the male-pattern baldness," Sheldon interjected, always, _always_ answering questions that were not meant for him, even when he had not technically heard the question. Leslie was able to suppress her irritation due to the enlightening information that was provided.

"When his uncles sit 'round the dinner table, they look like a half-carton of eggs," he said as he plugged in an extension cord. He stooped to retrieve his laptop from the trunk at Leslie's elbow, meeting her eye with a defiant forward thrust of his chin. She rolled her eyes and he left the door open.

Not ten seconds after Leonard closed it and sat down again did Sheldon knock and open it.

"What now?" Leonard asked, the annoyance Leslie shared evident in his voice.

"I have to make pee-pee," Sheldon said. Leslie bristled. _No one_ was that innocent.

"I'm sorry for Sheldon's interruptions. He can be a bit of an eccentric," Leonard said at the end of their date. Leslie had had a decent time, excluding the interruptions—two more after the pee-pee: once to get a cushion, and one to get a jacket in which he recognized the movie Leonard had rented to be one he was interested in seeing, then having the nerve to suggest he stay and watch.

Leonard's choice adjective was not accurate enough for Leslie, who could see nothing but a passive aggressive East Texas blow-hole who, she was now under the suspicion, wasn't as oblivious as he wanted the world to think he was. It could not be an accident—his timely interruptions that somehow managed, each time, to point out a weakness of Leonard's.

All and all, the objective of the evening was reached. Leslie knew more about her date-though almost none of it was positive or from Leonard's lips- and nothing beyond light petting had transpired, as per the schedule of a traditional developing relationship. She decided to ignore the general negative tone of the evening as a fluke in the test, and give Leonard another chance, assuming of course that he waited the minimum of 18 hours so she would not have to be repulsed by his cloying eagerness.

She remembered her mother's advice to back off and let Leonard assume the male role—dating was hard and Leslie felt ridiculous leaving it all up to the man, like he could possibly know what she was expecting, or what she wanted. She was not sure how to make that obvious without explicit explanations that left her in the driver's seat every time.

Penny's voice floated up the stairs, and a moment later, the blonde waitress appeared with a hunk of arm candy, and to make matters worse, she was actually discussing Shrodinger's cat. Damn, the woman was beautiful and smart—ish; no wonder Leonard was so into her.

When Leonard surprise-kissed her, Leslie thought for a moment he had lost control and was hoping it would lead right back into the apartment and into the bedroom, but a moment later, she was able to deduce that it was all a ploy to anger Penny.

She broke the kiss to inform Leonard that no girl would be jealous of a kiss like that. She kissed him back, harder, and he responded by dipping her, which was nice—until he grabbed her ass. She broke the kiss and wished him a goodnight, remembering at the last minute to employ the cutesy, flirtation that her friends had taught her in high school. "Call me."

It was another ridiculous custom she was supposed to adhere to for being a dating woman. It was almost enough to give up the game entirely. Did she really have to go through this just to find someone? Act like someone she wasn't? Why couldn't it by like the good old days, when marriages were arranged by the parents and these games of will-he/won't-he were left out of it. Pass/fail. Either his credentials were good enough to marry or they weren't.

She passed Sheldon on the third floor, where he was anchored at the end of his extension cord. She did not have anything to say to him; redundancy was something she avoided when tired. She was on the landing below him when he stopped her.

"Leslie," he said, standing, his heels together, toes apart. He held the computer leveled in his hands, and the resolution of the computer screen lit his face from the bottom.

She looked up at him, her neck more craned than usual because of the stairs. "What is it, Cooper?"

He paused for a beat, thrown by her address—though distant and cold, still nicer than anything she had used in years. He swallowed, closing the computer and dropping it to his side. "I feel the need to apologize," he said quietly. "There was an agreement to stay out of the way and I broke that agreement—though," his usual tone returned with the stray thought, "In my defense, it was hardly my fault; I had no time to prepare for this evening, having not heard 'bout it before-hand. In any case… please accept my formal apology."

Leslie starred up at him. She did not know how to interpret this. On one level it aligned with her new theory that he was a manipulative bastard, but on another, she could not ignore the fact that he was sincere above all else, though she could not quiet say how she knew that…

When the biggest instance of his sincerity showed itself in her mind's eye—with a boyish grin and science joke—she shook her head to get back on track with the current conversation, "Wait a minute, are you apologizing to me?"

His blue eyes bore into her for a measured three seconds as he made sure that was the extent of her questioning. In that space of time, Leslie noticed five-o-clock shadow on his chin for the first time and wondered when that started happening. She seemed to remember his face being baby soft under her touch—interesting to consider that he had not even had a proper beard when she had allegedly ruined his life.

"Yes," he said restraint evident in his voice. He was holding back from insulting her for such a stupid question; he had clearly stated the words. But Leslie wanted to hear them again; just to be sure it was happening, to understand why it was, after so many years.

"What brought this on?"

He blinked. "The implied promise I made to Leonard to give him the apartment for the night," he said simply, and she was momentarily thrown.

"A brief look into the research suggests that I should have treated the implied promise as a true promise and sought to find the things I needed in other places. For instance, Mrs. Vartabedian has an extension cord and—"

Leslie took a deep breath when it became clear that he was only apologizing for tonight—treating a symptom rather than the illness. Anger heated her blood and she cut across his rambling, "Oh, gee, that's really big of you, Dr. Cooper," she said scathingly.

He cut off, again surprised by what she was choosing to call him. He double looked her. "I suppose…_Dr. Winkle_," he said, unsure why they had to use professional titles, "I just think it ill-advised to maintain an open, full out war so long as you are intimately involved with my roommate. Such a thing hardly encourages roommate affection." (Here Leslie double looked him.) "I propose a cease fire until the inevitable end of your and Leonard's relationship," he concluded.

Leslie looked up at him in bafflement spiced with growing anger at this gentlemanly act of his. "_Unbelievable_. You really are a _bastard_!"

His face changed. "Oh is that what you call a cease fire?"

"Forget it—_dumbass_!" she marched down the stairs and out of the building. She was in the book store within ten minutes, seeking the comforts of other worlds.

_0000_

"Hello fellow scientists. Sheldon."

Still rather bewildered by the half-civilized conversation he'd had with her last, Sheldon was intrigued to find that she still harbored a hatred for him that was a little more electric than of late. It felt like seven years ago all over again. Her inability to let matters lie irked him. He said nothing as everyone up rooted to relocate to a bigger table to accommodate her as Leonard's guest. Such a thing felt like it should be involved in the roommate agreement; advanced warnings to any addition to the usual party.

Leonard was the only one to have visible hesitation.

"Might I suggest one potato two potato? Or as I call it, the Leslie Winkle Experimental Methodology?"

"Come on, Sheldon, don't make this difficult."

"It's not difficult. It's simple. You can sit with me, you're friend colleague and roommate, or you can sit with an overrated scientist you might have sex with."

"You're right it is simple." Leonard said, choosing her.

Sheldon stabbed his fork into his salad and measured the amount of stress finding a new roommate would most likely bring into his life. It was difficult to tell without knowing the replacement party…


	7. Chapter 7

7. In the Service of Science

Like Napoleon, Sheldon found himself exiled from his own apartment once again the next weekend. _No_ advanced warning.

Really it was almost as if Leonard _wanted_ to see how many times the roommate agreement could be tested.

Sheldon took the cord with him and camped on the third floor until Penny came across him there and a solution to his problem came to mind—if Penny would just try, _really try_, to be suitable for him, then Leonard wouldn't have to date the one person in the world that Sheldon couldn't ignore like the others.

He could perceive no happy future if he had to live with Leslie constantly around to belittle his research, disrupting his brilliance with distracting whiffs of honeysuckle.

Penny tried to help. She sat next to him on the steps and explained what she could in a kind voice that made Sheldon feel welcome in the building again. He was thankful for the first time that Penny had moved into his life—even if she started all of this.

It was an unmitigated disaster. Leonard's over-active sex drive and his constant need for affection was starting to unravel Sheldon's neatly folded past. It had to stop.

Leslie had to go away.

Why couldn't Leonard see what an undesirable partner she was?

And then it came to him. It was a bit manipulative—but, damn it, the future of science depended on it! With her out of the picture once again, he could focus on his work.

He shut down the laptop, packed it away in his messenger bag, and neatly coiled the extension cord on his way up the stairs, choosing his next words with the utmost care.

He opened the door without knocking and then wished he had.

The sight of Leslie strattling Leanard that greeted him caused such a vivid recall that Sheldon couldn't breathe for a second and he could smell beer, though the only alcohol in the apartment was the wine on the coffee table. It was noteworthy to find that she seemed to have only one mode of operation—the parallels' of the now two experiences he had with the situation allowed Sheldon to assume that a break was coming for an imminent relocation to the bedroom.

It felt safe to speak now, since he'd perceived that the belt wasn't even gone yet.

"When you reach a natural stopping point, I would like to have a word," he announced.

"If the word is pee-pee just do it," Leonard growled.

Sheldon shook his head. Leslie dismounted, and Sheldon entered the apartment with lungs full of air, ready to speak. "Leonard you are my friend and friends support friends (apparently.) So I have decided the time has come for me to accept your relationship with Leslie, and that I must over-look the fact that she is a subpar scientist, who believes loop quantum gravity better unties quantum mechanics with general relativity than does string theory." He bowed his head and started for his bedroom, leaving them with the conventional, "Good evening."

"Wait a minute," Leslie cried. "Loop quantum gravity clearly offers more testable predictions than string theory."

Sheldon stopped to look back at Leslie. He hadn't expected such a vehement reaction from her—though he had failed to calculate the agitation that perhaps manifested with the interruption of coitus.

Her argument was new, fresh, interesting. "Ok, I'm listening, amuse me."

"Okay, well, for one thing we expect quantized space-time to manifest itself as minute differences in the speed of light for different colors," she said, right out of the past.

"Balderdash," Sheldon said, meeting her there. "Matter clearly consists of tiny strings." He bowed again, more shallow than last time, his jaw set, his eyes hard and making it clear that he would repeat nothing more of his original argument—since apparently that was what she liked to hear when she was boozed up—and he had no desire of be jumped at the present.

Leslie blinked at him, and turned to Leonard. "Are you going to let him talk to me like that?"

Leonard was surprised at the question, and as always, didn't want to start an argument.

"Only loop quantum gravity calculates the entropy of black holes," Leslie cried.

Sheldon snorted before he could stop himself—the particular argument he had against that was still a work in progress, and he didn't share works in progress; they were far too abstract to put into words just yet.

Leonard tried to reprimand him like a small child who didn't know any better. Sheldon made it clear to everyone that he was well aware of the implications of his snort.

Leslie was on edge. "You agree with me don't you?" she asked Leonard. "Loop quantum gravity _is_ the future of physics!"

Sheldon shook his head condescendingly—as if he would accept a roommate who didn't believe in string theory. Leonard shrugged helplessly, picking at his thumbnail nervously. "I guess I prefer my matter stringy not loopy," he admitted. "It's not a big deal, really."

"Not a big deal?" she cried. "Tell me, Leonard, how will we raise the children?"

Sheldon was appalled by the question. Not only was it disturbing on the face of it—Had her apparent disregard for the math involved in birth control finally came to fruitation, and with _Leonard_?—but she also spoke of the scientific theories like two non-reconciling religions. As if string theory didn't, at least in some small way, encompass loop quantum gravity and all of it—_everything_—in a theory of ultimate connection—as if the magnificent wonder would go forever unsolved and it would be left to _faith_.

Leslie stormed out of the apartment, leaving a very satisfying wake of permanence in her absence, and the spring perfume left Sheldon's victory smelling oh so sweet.

He was happy.

Leonard, on the other hand, looked upset. Sheldon recognized that he should be feeling remorse for driving away Leonard's only prospect for coitus, but his elation at having won the battle was too much to hide. He did try the old social convention of comforting him with the promise of happier days.

"Look on the bright side," he said, sitting in his spot to view his triumph from the best seat in the world. Leonard glared at him. Sheldon smiled. "Only nine more months 'til Comic-Con."

_0000_

Leslie sought comfort in the only place she could count on to find it, the bookstore. Her sister was her best friend, but Katie would demand to know details and would urge her to talk about her feelings. Leslie did not like talking about her feelings. While she loved reading about the turmoil of emotions, she often hated having to feel them, and worse, having to talk about them.

Words like _love_ and _hurt_ and _hope_ were too awkward, too personal. Her parents never taught her to talk about her feelings. Her father wrote letters instead of saying the words, and her mother used her eyes. While she wasn't useless with a pen, she did not write letters. No one wrote letters. And she had always thought that getting glasses had somehow screwed up her ability to talk with her eyes like Mom, as Katie could.

So Leslie sought comfort in science. One thing she loved about science was the black and white of it. Everything had a scientific term, an explanation, nothing flowery and romantic or too personal. She found the only possible way for her to speak of her feelings was in that way, black and white terminology and straightforward.

And lying helped keep things running smoothly, too.

Her eyes were blurring as she looked at the book covers in her hands. No tears were falling—she never let them fall anymore—but she was embarrassed. She _hated_ that she let Sheldon get to her, that she had exploded and launched into a debate with him, and the truly embarrassing part was she had let her emotions take over and admitted—however vaguely—that she thought of the different theories in science like different kinds of religion.

She hated also, how ridiculous she must have sounded asking Leonard how many children they should have. It all went back to her problem of not being able to communicate well—not like the eloquent words of all of these wonderful books.

If only, if only, life was like it was in the books.


	8. Chapter 8

8. Another Lady of Science

With Leslie out of the tidy picture of his daily life once again, things returned to normal for Sheldon over the next year. He worked and he slept with no more interference than what he had come to expect from the lesser minds around him. They asked ridiculous questions or forced him to do trivial things, but he found comfort in eating with them crowded around his spot, talking and laughing and always inadvertently teaching him a thing or two about average people and average lives.

Fall came around and Sheldon listened with one ear as his compatriots discussed the weather, the flock of new faces, and the likelihood of achieving physical intimacy with them. As usual when faced with the prospect (however slim) of sex, Howard had been fidgeting with energy all day. It fascinated Sheldon that Howard could be so addicted to the rush of dopamine released over synopses. Sure, it was thrilling, but it should hardly be allowed to interfere with one's day to day life so easily.

"Hey guys," a female voice of lower register than most cut into Howard's pathetic display of his weakness. Leslie approached the table, holding her usual cup of coffee. After the failed attempt to begin a real relationship with Leonard, she'd stopped wearing skirts and dresses, returning to her casual jeans and sweater. She spoke to Sheldon.

"So, dumbass, I heard you made a grad student throw up last night." She said, with something almost like amusement. It was true that Sheldon had been talked into speaking to a class of grad students, but only at the resort of using blackmail. He had agreed for the sake of Batman, told the class the honest truth, and left.

"The truth can be a finger down the throat of those unprepared to hear it." Sheldon replied, "But why should I cater to second rate minds?

"Because first rate minds call you dumbass?" She asked with a smile. Sheldon twitched, "Oh, yeah? Well— you're a mean person."

How many times had she made him feel ten years old in a schoolyard in Texas? It was not right how easily she got under his skin.

Leslie opened her mouth to retort, but suddenly someone tall and wearing bright colors was standing beside the table as well. A second, higher-pitched and over-all sweeter voice cut in.

"Excuse me, Dr. Cooper?"

Ramona Nowitzki had been at his talk the night before and showered praise on him. Leslie left with a comment about nausea that did not miss on Sheldon as an insult for both he and the smiling red head.

Howard sprang up out of his chair and introduced himself. Sheldon silently noted as he ate that if Howard had been hoping for coitus, he probably should not have mentioned his space toilet; as Sheldon understood it, parading one's failures was not a way in which to garner respect and affection. He recalled the stain the meatloaf had left on his ceiling and was thinking about ways in which they could clean it when suddenly Ramona Nowitzki was sitting beside him with her whole body turned in his direction and her torso leaning towards him.

She was talking fast, praising him. He focused on his food. A red flag had gone up. The parameters of previously set up rules of logic had been passed and he was entering into territory dangerously close to an experience he was not willing to replicate.

His PROCEED WITH CAUTION lights flashed in his mind as he allowed her praise to make his shoulders relax. Oh, how he enjoyed being recognized for the truly miraculous creation he was.

Ramona Nowitzki was talking about his most recent work—and intelligently. He looked up from his food and at her for the first time, smiling. It was one thing to be praised by mediocre minds, another thing entirely to be praised by an intelligent one.

PROCEED WITH CAUTION.

Ignoring Howard's attempt at flirtation and Ramona's second display of displeasure, Sheldon sat up straighter explaining to his newest fan about his coming breakthrough in showing how neutrinos emerge from a string-net condensate. She gushed with true understanding of the magnitude of his work.

PROCEED WITH CAUTION.

He shrugged, "It's what I do."

She giggled and then Howard was talking about his space toilet again. Finally, her disinterest was beginning to sink into the tiny Jewish man and he backed off.

Ramona stated that she would love to hear more about how he intended to add the neutrons. PROCEED WITH CAUTION. He turned down her offer for coffee, but her offer to talk about him over dinner was appealing, but he had no interest in going to a strange place. PROCEED WITH CAUTION. Strange places with strangers—in this case, the intelligent, smiling, and smelling-of-jasmine, Ramona Nowitzki–would lead to undesirable situations.

"What if I brought food to your place?"

His place _was_ a comforting idea, an acceptable idea. He arranged for her to come tonight, Monday night, Thai food night, and placed his usual Siam Palace order. She impressed him by not needing him to repeat it as others would have done and darted off.

Standing in his kitchen, Ramona laughed shrilly at his illustration of mirror symmetry by likening it to the Flash playing tennis with himself in the draft of his latest paper. While the laughter wasn't pleasant, he did enjoy the rush of being rewarded for the little joke. Usually his jokes received looks of confusion from strangers, and among his friends the looks were usually of offense.

Talking fast again, Ramona proclaimed one section to be, in her words, "physically exhilarating."

Eight years was a very long time, and Sheldon had not until right then felt it. Suddenly he felt like smiling and holding his chest out a little more and in a flash he wondered what she would look like with all of her red hair loose form their pig tails.

He swallowed, comparing the only two instances in his experience and reaching a conclusion, and his answer when he stated aloud, took on a tone of pride.

"My hypotheses tend to have that effect."

Ramona listened attentively as he discussed the work. When they had finished the Thai food, she cleaned up after them, insisting,

"No, no, no. You tackle that Nuetrino issue, I'll get this."

She was so thoughtful.

"I do not think of my work as a _tackle, _per say," he admitted aloud for the first time—no one else had ever seemed interested, "In my mind it is more of a fencing match—skill and perseverance over the rather thuggish and blockhead implications of _tackle_."

"You are so right," she gushed. Sheldon smiled and got to work.

She was smart, insightful, and her constant praise suspended him in a state of perpetual comfort through the whole night. She never asked stupid questions—always the perfect question—and she encouraged him to work, something his friends never once attempted. If anything they took pains to distract him. He found being with her a unique and refreshing experience.

The next day, she volunteered to stand in lunch lines for him, an offer which he graciously accepted as he was confident she would remain vigilant as she watched them prepare the food. She did not let him down. She continued to impress him like that, and she didn't stop there—she laughed at _all_ of his jokes, shrilly but genuinely.

When Leonard seemed confused that she would do him the service of standing in line, she explained, "Lines take time away that he could be using to tackle work.'

"Ramona," he said, "I've already told you. We do not tackle a problem, we fence with it. En guard! Repost!" He sliced his butter knife in the appropriate fashion. He was having such a great time laughing with Ramona that he did not notice Leslie Wrinkle approaching with coffee and a bran muffin until she spoke.

Leslie had been on her way out of the cafeteria when a shrill laugh had pulled her from her work. She'd glanced toward the source—one of the new grad students with Leonard—and had been only four steps away from the door when she'd heard a second laugh join the shrill first one. She'd stopped and looked back at the table. With closer inspection, Leonard seemed only to be another bystander in the phenomenon that was happening. The grad student was sitting beside _Sheldon_…and they were laughing—openly.

Leslie had blinked. She couldn't believe her eyes. There was the most arrogant physicist in the world, his work pushed casually aside, his cheeks dimpling as he smiled and fenced playfully with a skinny…_ bimbo_.

Leslie's legs had begun moving before she knew which way was up, carrying her to the very table where she'd first sat as a grad student—ironically in the very seat the ass-kisser was sitting in now, praising Dr. Cooper like someone Leslie used to know. Growling to herself, she noted the papers once again and smiled cruelly as she reached Leonard's side.

"I see you're organizing your papers for the Smithsonian Museum of Dumb-Assery."

Before he could even try to formulate a response to that, Ramona turned to face her and delivered, quiet calmly,

"There won't be any room until they get rid of the _permanent_ Leslie Winkle exhibit."

"Oh good one!" Sheldon cried, awe clear in his voice. Leslie became suddenly annoyed. She sneered at the red head and said to him,

"I see you got a grad student to fight your battles for you. I'll let you keep your lunch money today."

"Dr. Cooper is on the verge of a breakthrough. If you are going to stay you will have to be respectable and quiet." The intensity of the young woman's tone made all who heard believe there would be severe consequences if anyone broke the new rule.

Leslie stared at the girl for a drawn out moment as she thought of the hundreds of cruel things she could say—about Sheldon, about his work, about his tendency to use naive grad-students—but that, Leslie knew, though intended to be an insult for the girl, would land as more of a safety precaution, and she didn't feel like protecting the skinny little tramp against the manipulative Dr. Dumbass—because she didn't care.

She didn't care what, or who, he did.

She left without a word, but the rest of the day's work wasn't her best. She couldn't stop wondering, in the back of her mind, when the dumbass had grown up and started acting like a man.


	9. Chapter 9

**9. A Glimpse of the Unicorn**

Ramona was around all of the time after that. She always smiled sweetly and smelled of jasmine. She came by to watch Sheldon work and he let her, since she often made him tea, brought him snacks, and made sure that he looked away from the computer screen every twenty minutes and focused his eyes on things at varying distances in order to prevent the onset of poor eye sight.

She was so considerate, she even volunteered to pumas his hammer toe as he worked. He was hesitant at first—letting other people touch him ranked with no one going into his room—but she insisted. She was gentle and kept the contact minimum.

It did not take long, however, for him to finally encounter the negatives of her company. She would not let him go to Koothrapalli's for Wednesday night, Halo night, nor would she let him watch Battlestar Galactica. In fact, every time he suggested taking a break and doing something else, she gave him a fierce look that reminded him of the tone she'd used to threaten Leslie Winkle.

Sheldon had not realized how much time he spent doing frivolous things. He was appalled at how much he had let Leonard and the others distract him from his goal—the unicorn, and a Nobel Prize to show for it. She reminded him of the noble words of a truly great mind.

"Science demands nothing less than the fervent and unconditional dedication of our entire lives." He could not argue with himself; he worked.

Two weeks passed in which he surrendered comic book night and video game night, and secretly arranged for Raj to T-VO all of his shows until such a later date as he could watch them. (He could not have Leonard do it—Ramona checked theirs and would erase it.) While it was not fun having to hide in bathtubs to play a little tetras, or conceal comic books in text books, he could not argue with the fact that her encouragement was forcing him to produce significant results.

Leonard had left to hang at Koothrapalli's, saying something about the Roommate Agreement that left Sheldon puzzled—there was nothing in the contract that stated that he must leave when a third party came to do Sheldon's share of chores, the laundry, dishes and vacuuming.

It had grown dark as Sheldon fenced with his foes, and Ramona had taken to sitting in a chair beside him, simply watching him work. She had finished all chores—even Leonard's half—and seemed content just to watch him. While the gears in his mind churned away—his intellectual steel singing as it sliced through air and foe—on the outside, it could not have been very entertaining. His fingers flew deftly over the keyboard, his eyebrows met in the middle. Occasionally, he licked his lips or paused to turn a page.

He and the enemy finally reached a standstill—their blades were locked, but neither would give in, both, it seemed, had the strength to throw the other off. On the outside, Sheldon sat with his eyes unfocused and his fingertips to his lips pensively.

"Sheldon?" She asked, pulling him out of it. She had never called him by his first name before. Turning to look in her direction for the first time in hours, he found her much closer than he expected. Her hair was down and damp from a shower he vaguely recalled her informing him she was going to take.

She was wearing pajamas. (They had agreed earlier that day that she could stay the night, help him get an early start in the morning by working out all of the masses for the fermions—oompaloompa work that Penny could do if properly shown the process—but Ramona did not mind, in fact she insisted even though he could have finished the tedious grudge work in an hour.)

"Hmm?" He asked.

She moved even closer to him, looking up at him through lush eyelashes. "I _really_ admire you." She said, breathlessly.

PROCEED WITH CAUTION

"Thank you." He said, his knuckles whitening as he clutched his computer. The smell of jasmine was stronger than usual and Sheldon surmised it must be her shampoo and conditioner.

"Why don't you stop for the night?" She said, closing the laptop.

With nothing to hold onto as she looked at him like that, he felt vulnerable. He needed his spot. He stood and went to it—faithful 0,0,0,0; his constant comfort.

He was distressed when she followed and sat on the middle cushion facing him with her feet curled under her. He forced himself to relax. If she stayed at that distance, he would be fine.

"Thanks for letting me stay—the bus ride back to my apartment at this time of night is very uncomfortable. Strange people come out at night."

"I stopped riding the bus." He said, conversationally. "Too dangerous without seatbelts."

"Oh, I never thought of it like that," she said, lowly, and she moved closer to him. "You think of everything—it must be wonderful to experience the world as you do, to understand it so easily."

One of her hands was on his knee, the other on his elbow. She giggled, "Oh, Sheldon, I've never met anyone like you before."

Ramona was intelligent. She was nothing but kind to him. She was strong against his enemies. Sure her laugh was a little shrill, but she smelled nice. Maybe she was worthy, and maybe eight years was _too_ long.

DANGER, WILL ROBINSON, DANGER

Sheldon stood abruptly. "Ramona," He said, then cleared his throat. He wasn't looking at her as he spoke, but at his feet and the weave of the rug, "It occurs to me that you may need me to explain to you that I do not, as I believe the colloquial term, as well as the popular Kelly Clarkson song, goes, _hook up_."

Ramona blinked at him—no doubt surprised he even knew who Kelly Clarkson was. He would in fact not know, if MeeMaw did not love American Idol so much, and sent him iTunes of her favorite songs. The song _was_ rather catchy.

She smiled, bit her lower lip, "I don't either."

He straightened the hem of his shirt, "Good." He said. His pulse had reached an uncomfortable rate.

"I just want to say…" She said, standing. He saw that her feet were bare and her toenails were painted pink, as she went to her tiptoes. She was tall enough that the small addition of height put her on eye level with him—an impressive feat in and of itself. "I don't think I've ever had a boyfriend as cute as you."

She kissed his cheek and headed for the kitchen, "I'll bet you need some juice after all those hours of hard work." As she poured the glass, babbling away with praise, Sheldon remained exactly where he was, twitching.

Boyfriend. He did not know much, but he knew that labels like _boyfriend_ had to be agreed upon. He turned, "Ramona," he said, as conversationally as he could, "When did I become your boyfriend?"

"When you agreed to let me sleep over, silly," She said as she brought him the juice. She handed him the glass and held up her hands in surrender, "But I respect your boundaries and will sleep on the couch."

"But—"He began—he did not know how to proceed. She was smart and sweet, but she laughed shrilly and wouldn't let him have fun.

He finished the juice and went to his room to dress and prepare for bed, already trying to work out what he should say or do. He would have to use his other laptop to research the procedures. He was coming out of the bathroom after brushing his teeth when he found his way to his room blocked.

"Goodnight, Sheldon." She went to her toes again and kissed him on the lips and then hurried away back to the living room couch. Panicked, Sheldon hurried to his room.

Research told him that if he was in an undesirable relationship and wished to end it, the best way was face to face and truthfully—texting, as he was so badly tempted—was ranked as a highly dishonorable way.

He did not think he could do it face to face—her fierce looks alone scared him; he did not want to think what she was capable of physically. Slaps—though painful and thus avoided—he could handle, but he'd been kneed in the groin one time too many in life. The simple solution was to make Ramona leave of her own accord.

The next day, he sought Penny's advice—if anyone knew how to drive someone away, it was the perky actress. No luck.

That day was no different than the previous few, except that Ramona called him "Sheldon" and touched him more. He cleared his throat once and said, "I would prefer it if you called me, Dr. Cooper." She shrugged and said she would, but the touching did not stop. It took her all day to work out the masses of the fermions, and then she spent the night on the couch again.

In the dead of night, Sheldon sought the help of his best friend. No luck there, either.

He was trapped.

_0000_

He'd done it! He had _finally_ reconciled the black hole information paradox with his theory of string-network condensates. It was incredible, it was paradigm-altering! He was brilliant! He was wonderful! He was that much closer to proving String Theory—the elusive unicorn had been glimpsed!

Ramona shared his triumph, cheering for him, and praising him, all smiles and giddy energy.

But she wanted him to name it after her, to share credit—as if she had contributed to the growth of the work instead of the man. Sure she had done a little of the math, but it was hardly noteworthy. All she did was make tea and stare at him as he did everything.

Suddenly it was easy to do what he had been afraid to do.

"_Get out_."

The next week, when another grad student—this one shorter, slightly over-weight and neglecting of the social convention to offer a first or last name—sat down at the table and showered praise on his work with the spring-net condensates.

PROCEED WITH CAUTION.

Sheldon smiled, his shoulders still tense, and told this one that he had pizzas on Thursdays. Ignorant of the image he began to present, Dr. Cooper decided he liked the fall and the tide of new labradoodles who were willing to do his oompa-loompa work for free. It allowed him to keep his weekly schedule of relaxation and fun, and still produce regular results.


	10. Chapter 10

10. Holiday Cheer

Several months passed in which, Penny got out of control in a stubborn attempt to shirk the rules as if she were more important than anyone else. As with any foe, Sheldon would have fought to the death—except that Mom called and told him to play nice, reminded him that he was above revenge, like a Jedi.

Then a tight situation forced him to illegally wipe the data from government computers in an attempt to save Howard from a lifetime in prison—the situation caused him to grudgingly admit that the small Pipe l'pu of a man actually _was_ a friend, not just an acquaintance, and thus he was obliged to help.

The only good thing to come out of that adventure was the McCoy Sheldon had been looking for. Leonard's newest squeeze, Dr. Stephanie, was nice—by far the most tolerable of Leonard's conquests—and smelled plainly like old fashion soap. Sheldon was comfortable around her and she was kind to him. He was desperate that she stay—the amount of stress it would reduce in his life would be substantial. While he considered Leonard his best friend—a brother, even— the amount of stress that he caused Sheldon in his attempts to find a mate was substantial.

Sadly, and despite Sheldon's best efforts, Leonard's relationship with Stephanie ended, as all good things tended to do around poor Leonard.

Christmas time rolled around. The monthly letter he received from MeeMaw was in a much larger envelope than usual. He sighed as he pulled it out of the mailbox. It did not matter how many time he told that woman that he did not believe in giving gifts, she always sent him one.

But then, again, he always sent her one, too.

He was smiling as he ascended the stairs, thinking about his grandmother's expression when she would open the box from him and find inside it a fresh set of advanced drawing utensils. The envelope from her had sketches of Navitivity scenes, trees, stars of Bethlehem, Charlie Brown, and of course, her Moon Pie. Inside was a three page letter in her neat handwriting.

The first page told him a brief story of adventure, heroes, and magic in the fashion of the bed time stories she told him as a child—all with sturdy morals in their themes. This story was about perseverance winning over all of adversity.

MeeMaw was as wonderful a storyteller and writer as she was an artist. In the card he had sent with her new drawing set, he had urged her for the millionth time to try to get published. He knew her reply would be, "Get 'em published if you want, but wait 'til I'm dead. I want my stories to be only for my Moon Pie while I'm alive."

In the other two pages of the letter, she told him of the recent adventures she and Paw Paw had had getting a tree knocked over in a storm and then blowing out a tire. He smirked at the image of MeeMaw changing the tire in the middle of a snowstorm while Agamemnon, her Great Dane, tried to help. She had said it was PawPaw's adventure as much as her own, because all of her adventures were PawPaw's too, since she carried his memory with her always.

She went on to ask Sheldon details of his work—MeeMaw always took pains to understand what it was he was doing. She never encouraged something she did not understand—and then she wished him a happy Christmas, reminding him to gives thanks that Jesus was born to save him.

The gift she had included was a made-by-hand comic book about the adventures of Sheldor the Conqueror. The pictures were stunning and a flip through it let him know that Sheldor was going to receive a very interesting reward from the Lady of Skygale. Sheldon found himself blushing from all of the peach-colored curves his grandmother had drawn for him. He knew, though, that Sheldor would honorably decline; his heart belonged to the fair maiden Eliza.

The thoughtful gift from his favorite person in the world was eclipsed, however, by a gift from the most unlikely person in the world. Not even realizing it was a big deal, Penny gave him the most exciting, wonderful, amazing Christmas present ever—autographed DNA from Leonard Nimoy!

He framed it, hung it on his wall next to the portrait MeeMaw had done twenty years ago of herself in a rocker with seven year old Sheldon in her lap, and he then sat at his desk to write a lengthy e-mail to MeeMaw all about it. After sending it, he found in his inbox an e-mail from Dr. Winkle.

_Dr. Cooper, I've sent an e-mail out to everyone wishing them a joyous holiday and a happy new year. I don't like to leave anyone out, even my enemies. I don't hold grudges over the holidays, so I send this as a peace offering. Merry Christmas and God Bless._

He had known what it would say before clicking into it. He'd been getting the exact same e-mail, with no changes, once a year for eight years now. Perhaps it was the joy of the most exciting, wonderful, amazing gift that was putting him in an uncharacteristically Christmas Cheer mood, but this was the first year he wrote back with more than two words.

_0000_

Leslie was curled on her couch, scrolling through her emails, reading the cordial responses of her colleagues with the mild sense of accomplishment that she received every year when she found that it was easy to spread holiday cheer. The email from Dr. Cooper came up, but she'd already hit the Next button before realizing it didn't have the typical message waiting in it.

She burned her lip with her hot coco and went back to the few lines of text that made his email one of the longer ones from the list. Most everyone else just replied with an e-card, or a "thanks, have a good one."

_Dr. Winkle, before receiving the first of these e-mails, I had no idea you were religious, but to each his own (or her own as the case may be). Thank you for the peace offering. As usual, I accept, but I'm in a gracious mood and go one further than that; Merry Christmas._

Leslie stared at the last sentence, and then struck the delete key rather harder than necessary. Her computer had been acting buggy lately and took its time responding to the command. She had to look at the insufferable words for a minute longer than she liked. She didn't know why but the news that he was in a gracious mood only angered her.

Perhaps it was partly due to the fact that it was no small secret that Dr. Cooper had been burning through the small herd of female graduate students since fall. The shrill red head showed obvious resentment, but the rest bragged about kisses and hugs and, as they put it, _that adorable smile_! (Leslie had no way of knowing that the string of grad-students had simply started rumors to match Ramona's success.) The giggling made Leslie sick. Despite her complaints, the bosses were just happy he was making such remarkable progress with his work.

She punched the delete key repeatedly until the disgusting email disappeared, to reveal Krikpe's slightly sexist Christmas joke e-card. She deleted that one too, to see Leonard's usual lengthy reply about how amazing it was that she could be so thoughtful, and he wished her the merriest of Christmases. It reminded her of the purpose of her emails.

She shouldn't hold grudges. It was Christmas, she reminded herself firmly, even Dr. Dumbass deserved a prayer for happiness—however short a prayer she could stomach.

By the grace of God, when work resumed after the holidays, the buzz around campus did not. Dr. Cooper had not return with a break-through as everyone had hoped he would, and the usual quid-pro-quo quickly returned and he sank back behind the curtain to be ignored. Leslie saw him only once, briefly, on the first day back in front of the main building where she sat finishing her favorite Christmas book—it was even better this year, perhaps because the heroine was also alone, though she waited for her husband to return from the war.

He was walking up the path with Leonard, in some kind of spirited debate about Leonard Nemoy clones, and Leslie glanced up prepared to greet Leonard with a polite smile, but he was fiddling with the lid on his coffee and did not look up. Instead, Sheldon's blue eyes met hers squarely for two of his long strides, and then Leslie, unable to forget his current reputation, scoffed.

The general happiness in his face suddenly hardened before he looked again at the sidewalk, saying stiffly as he passed the wall were Leslie sat, "I don't have to believe in gifts to make it the best Christmas gift ever!"

Leonard spilled a little of his coffee and shook his burnt hand angrily. "Fine, but you're not buying her a new car; it's just a check engine light, Sheldon!"

Leslie frowned angrily and returned to her novel—the best part was coming up anyway.

Sheldon opened the door to the college and breezed in without first allowing Leonard to go ahead of him, as he probably should have since Leonard's hands were full and blistered from his coffee spill. He just wanted to get inside, out of the fresh air. He honestly did not understand the world's fascination with fresh air—in the spring it was full of pollens and allergies, and now, in the winter, taking a deep breath as he tried to suppress the sudden irrational memory of a knee to the groin, it did nothing to aid him.


	11. Chapter 11

11. New and Old Stories

Katie was getting married—her boyfriend had proposed over Christmas—and the two of them had their hearts set on a Spring Wedding. Leslie and her mother were in the bookstore. Beside her, her mother chatted about her eldest daughter's wedding as she skimmed over the titles. Leslie thumbed through a book about a girl living in the Union that fell in love with a Confederate soldier from Texas. It looked good.

She put it in her To Buy stack and absently grabbed a handful of paperbacks from the shelf to go through them. When she discovered a book, she liked to do it in this way, in a stack. Simply skimming the titles for something to peak her interest, as her mother did, took the fun out of it.

If she had the time, Leslie could go through an entire book shop in this way. Grab a handful, go through it one at a time until she found a prize. It was a little like sifting for gold in the creeks of the old days.

She listened with one ear as Barbra rattled on about the cut of the bridesmaid dresses and how excited she was that Patrick, her soon to be son in law, had agreed to have a Victorian Style wedding—to honor the Winkle family. Leslie's father, a Victorian Literature professor, was over the moon about it.

"Excuse me," a male voice said, breaking the quiet of the little shop. "Do you have any books on making friends?"

Leslie jumped and looked around, and Barbra jumped too. "What's wrong?"

Leslie looked through the bookshelf at the cash register.

"Shit!" she hissed.

"What? What?" Barbra asked, peering through the books as well. "Do you know him?" She asked, adding with sudden understanding, "Is that one of your—men?"

"Mom!" Leslie quipped. She didn't want to be too loud.

Sheldon Cooper was standing at the register, that same old messenger bag strung across his chest. He stood semi at ease, decidedly in one spot, his hands calmly on the strap and bag. It was strange for Leslie to see him in such an outside world location, none of the shifting and fiddling he was usually doing, relatively at ease. Memory of his ease around that grad-student flickered unpleasantly through her mind.

She suppressed a growl in her mother's presence. This _couldn't_ be part of his "comfort zone." If anything the bookstore was _her_ comfort zone! They would have crossed paths if he came here often. What was he doing here?

"Leslie, do you think he is here to find you?" Barbra's question was optimistic—filled with the wonder of the dream; the dream of any girl that one day, a charming young Mr. Darcy would track her down to declare passionate love and propose marriage. Barbra had found her Darcy in Hugh, and her heart smiled at the prospect of this neat and tidy young man being Leslie's.

"He's cute," Barbra whispered.

"Mom—_shut it_," Leslie hissed, grumbling on a lower register, "Damn Dr. _Dumbass_ and his _dumbass_ Vulcan hearing!"

Barbra was smiling at her daughter. The paperback in her hands was curled into a tight scroll—she would have to buy it now.

"Go talk to him."

Leslie turned away, shaking her head resolutely. "No. _That_ is ancient history."

Barbra gasped like a school girl and peered through the books again. "He's not your first, was he Les?"

"Mom, please," Leslie said—and there, she'd done it again, that magic. She'd said something without actually saying it. Barbra double looked Leslie, her mouth falling open as she realized that while he was not _the _first, he was _a_ first—the first to hurt her.

"Oh, honey, I'm sorry… Let's sneak out—"

"No. I was here first, he can leave," she said. The competitive edge in her daughter's voice illuminated the nature of the problem. "Oh, you work with him? He's a scientist?"

"He's not a scientist, he-" She stopped talking abruptly, blinked.

Clearly, due to the prospect of her mother seeing Sheldon for the first time, Leslie's mind had reverted back to that first day of grad school, and her first impression of the famous physicist eating a brown-bag lunch—not her arch nemesis looking for books on making friends.

Had she almost just said that he was Sheldon Cooper—as if that was a credential—or had she been going to say that he was just a dumbass? The two pictures of Dr. Cooper were so vivid in her mind, side by side, innocent and cordial vs. prideful and rude, that she decided Shcrodinger's cat meant that the rest of her sentence could never be known unless she finished it.

She didn't. She was afraid to.

Barbra was looking through the shelf, reassigning the tall gentleman to be a left-brainer, someone more interested in numbers and such than thrilling stories of romance and mystery. Though of course, he could be both, like Leslie, explaining his presence in a bookstore (for Barbra there were no such things as books with nothing but numbers in them.)

It was disappointing that he hadn't urgently asked the clerk if a beautiful girl with black-rimmed glasses had come in today, but she liked the way he chose to sit at the kiddy table to check over his book before purchasing.

"What do you think he is doing here?" her mother asked.

"I don't know. I don't care." Leslie said, flipping nonchalantly through _Persuasion_, which had been the last in the stack she'd plucked off the shelf at random. Absently, she noted how long it had been since she'd read about Ms. Elliot and decided she would buy this one too.

"Okay, he's leaving." Barbra announced.

"Good, let's buy and get out of here. I'm tired. I didn't really sleep last night." Leslie said.

"Don't let him upset you, honey." Barbra said, motherly. "We can never escape our pasts, that's why we have to reconcile." She paused, waited for a response. When Leslie didn't offer one, she asked timidly, "Did you reconcile with that young man?"

"Who? Dr. Cooper?" Leslie asked, using the professional surname in an attempt to appear distant—all it did was feel like she was giving him props for something. Her eyebrows lowered. Strange.

"What happened?"

"I already said. It's ancient history—seriously, if you met him you would understand, the less you have to put up with him the better."

Barbra had to accept that.


	12. Chapter 12

12. Nowhere to Know

Her sister's wedding was in two weeks, and she needed a date. The entire thing only reminded Leslie of how alone she was. She wanted fun. She wanted escape. Paintball was fun, but it hardly provided the kind of mind-wiping distraction that she longed for.

"TAKE THAT BITCHES!" Howard Wolowitz screamed as he shot at one of the pharmaceutical team members. His green paintballs exploded on the woman's armor in a satisfying, _splat-splat splat-plat-plat_ and the little man let out a joy-filled triumphant war cry before he and his squad darted into the shed for cover.

Leslie waited until the others had come back out, before she shot her entire squad and hurried in to find Howard. She had never considered him before, but he had somehow become a good friend over the years, always ready to pass on the newest tidbit of gossip or good news.

He was not her type, generally, but he was eager to please, which made him easy to control.

_0000_

Cutbacks. Sheldon was baffled by the budget committee's idea of fairness and equality. His work was clearly more important. Such was the topic of discussion at the lunch table when Leslie Winkle approached to ask Wolowitz if he liked the extra grant money she gave his lab.

"You scratch my back, I scratch yours." She said with a casual shrug. Then, surprisingly, she scratched at the air, making a sound that caused an old file to pop out of the archives of the great mind of Sheldon Cooper. Nothing large, something never before read, just a string of random data: a science joke, followed by a brief moment that Sheldon _now_ understood, thanks to pop culture movies Penny forced him to watch, was considered _role-playing_.

Sheldon banished the useless file to the recycle bin, and once Leslie was gone, the question of what-that-hell-did-_that_-mean sparked significant conversation around the table. But Sheldon was slow to join; the first file seemed only to be the beginning of a spam virus—a gentle bite on his ear, giggling, hiccups, and the smell of springtime scented Tide off those surprising Star Wars sheets he'd already recalled—nothing serious, just annoying as hell.

To control the onslaught of new and fuzzy memories, Sheldon took up the job of analyzing the social interaction in order to properly file it away. He properly labeled the animalistic sound and did so out loud, for optimum focus. His efforts won him the usual resentment and looks of annoyance.

Howard immediately asked Leonard for "permission." This surprised Sheldon and caused him to abandon one study of social interaction for another.

If friends needed permission to seek physical intimacy with a girl that another friend had already been with, then by that rule, Leonard should have asked him a long time ago, and Howard should be asking now. Perhaps he should have told his friends about what happened with Leslie. He did not know if there was a kind of post facto rule to this rule.

Did keeping the fact that he had—to put it in the crude colloquial terms—_been there first_ mean he was betraying Leonard, and now Howard, in the same way they were betraying—by social rules anyway—he, Sheldon, for sleeping with her without his permission?

… But then, he had no lingering feelings, and surely, the rules did not really apply. The bigger problem was that Howard's actions on the paintball field required court-marshaling.

_0000_

The new issue of Flash was out and Sheldon returned home with it to find his friends talking incessantly. He sat in his spot and immediately knew something was wrong. He could not explain it—but something was wrong. Inspection showed him a horrendous green stain on the bottom of the cushion—which he now realized was the actual top and the reason he had felt something was wrong.

Penny was the culprit, of course. The cushion was taken away to be cleaned and Sheldon suffered through an entire weak of no spot to comfort him. It was not there when he woke in the morning, nor when he came home after work. When his friends gathered to eat, he could not sit in the middle of them, with the best view of the room, of them, of his world. He wondered around listless and lost—no constant, nothing to hold onto, nothing he knew would be unchanged and waiting for him when he got home.

His stomach hurt at night and he dreaded getting up in the morning. As he always did when the world threw disastrous hurtles at him, he leaned on something that would never ever be saturated by a paintball and sent away to a part-time dry-cleaners; physics.

Physics would never go and change on him, it could never be taken away by a careless accident, it was a perfect distraction from Wolowitz's heartless bragging about getting sex—and grants—from Leslie while they got nothing. No, he could let physics carry him through the week.

_0000_

The sounds of the busy street fell away as they stepped into the bookstore. It smelled like heaven—that new page smell. The clerk greeted Leslie warmly. They all knew her extremely well here. She came here at least once a day. She did not always buy something, sometimes she just liked to be surrounded by books. In behind her came Katie.

Leslie was like their father, in that she spoke less. Katie was like their mother in that she babbled constantly. Currently, she was gushing and laughing as she talked about her fiancé Patrick.

"I'm really happy for you." Leslie said with genuine envy as they made their way to the historical fiction section. "You're really crazy about him."

Katie gave her a tight one-armed hug, "I am."

"So, is love really all Austen cracked it up to be?"

"Oh, it is!" Katie actually twirled, drawing laughter out of the younger sister. Katie always made her feel better. "He's, he's…" She fished for the right words, "He's what I _know_, you know?"

"No, I don't." Leslie laughed. Katie groaned. "I know I sound crazy—but that's because I am. Love does that, it makes the world seem scary and it makes you worry and not think straight—but the one you love, he's none of that. You don't have to be scared, you don't have to worry. I _know_ Patrick—he's something I can rely on to be constant, you know?"

Actually, Leslie did know, because someone once taught her to look at the laws of physics in that way; and he happened to be one of the youngest men alive writing them.

Her heart physically hurt with the desire to find someone to know like that. The idea that she might grow old and die with only the laws of physics filling that void was too miserable even to contemplate. She inwardly flinched away from it and put on a smile, as genuine as she could muster, for her sister. She nodded, "I think I do understand, Kate. That's amazing."

With a deep breath that brought her shoulders up to her ears on the intake and straightened her spine on the out, Katie put an end to her girlish squealing and leveled mature eyes on Leslie. Leslie ignored the worried look, the plea to be confided in. When she said nothing, Katie began digging. And she didn't just scratch the surface, but pierce straight down to the point.

"So," She said, "Mom was telling me that a cute guy here the other day hurt you."

Leslie groaned. "She's worse than, Mrs. Jenkins!" Barbra put the notorious gossip in Austen's _Sense and Sensibility_ to shame when it came to tales of love and betrayal.

Katie laughed. "Come on, Les, spill."

Leslie plucked a stack of books from the shelf instead. Snorting, Katie took them from her sister, raising one eyebrow.

"It was just Dr. Cooper."

Katie double looked her at the sound of the name, her automatic sisterly anger-at-the-bastard just a tad late, "You should have kicked him in the balls."

"Already did."

"Oh, Les, never leave out the _good_ parts!"

"I kicked him a long time ago when he refused to apologize—when he actually came looking for me expecting _me_ to apologize."

Katie hugged her, "That must have been traumatic."

"It doesn't matter. It was eight years ago now. I'm over it."

"Which is why seeing him in a bookstore rattles you."

"Shut up."

Katie laughed and then sniffed dryly, and got right to the heart of why Dr. Cooper was on her shit list. "Not worthy my ass—he wasn't worthy of you, that's the problem. One day you will find someone worthy. Trust me."

Her sister's assurance did not sit well with Leslie.

Suddenly, with seven years of space between the hurt and her heart at the present, it was all so very clear why he had been so distressed as he ranted about "a worthy girl." It was not just about his arrogance—it was about the girl. He had been most worried about failing his dream girl's expectations.

This shed remarkable light on Leslie's current unhappiness in her prospects for finding that special, suitable husband straight out of the Austen novels. How could she expect to find her Darcy when she was not even being a proper Elizabeth?

She called Howard as soon as she got home. She'd made a decision. She would be alone for a while. Single. She would learn to rely on no one but herself. She would hold out for love this time.

Of course she said none of this to Howard. To him, she used her usual break-up line, short, simple, and cold. It had to be, to stop the pathetic ones from begging.

_0000_

"You've reached friends with benefits. For a booty call, press one…"

_Friends with benefits_. What a curious expression. Leonard's explanation was helpful, and sparked Sheldon's interest. Could such a thing truly exist? Acquaintances sharing coitus and then going their separate ways, cordially and maturely with no commitment or expectations?

It was a far cry from everything MeeMaw ever taught him about matters of the heart, but then, his friends were shedding light on an idea that had never occurred to him before—not after growing up hearing MeeMaw and his mother talk about it—sex _did not have_ to be a matter of the heart.

It could just be… sex. Needed release, scheduled, more satisfying than going solo, but equally as simple.

Well that seemed ideal—given, of course, if such a thing truly was possible.

But then Howard was a blubbering, snotty 97 pound lump on the couch. Leslie had ended their arrangement.

By the sound of it, she had no attachment to Howard and had had no remorse as she cut him loose. It suddenly occurred to Sheldon that if Leslie practiced _Friends with Benefits_, then perhaps that had been what she had thought she was doing seven years ago when she straddled him, taught him a few things.

The thought was paradigm altering. It cast the entire situation in a completely different light—if only she had taken the time to calm him down and explain herself. Perhaps they could have worked something out and he could have been the one answering Leslie's call, and Howard wouldn't be crying.

"Sheldon, he obviously had feelings for her!" Leonard cried.

Mark one up for_ Impossible_. But, then again, Howard cried like a little girl over losing sex, or even losing just a chance to have sex, all the time. Sheldon needed more input.

With his compatriots in Las Vegas trying to cheer Howard up, Sheldon asked Penny.

"Some people can't handle it." She said with a shrug. Well, Howard was clearly one of those people, but Leslie, on the other hand, clearly belonged to the opposing group. Mark one up for Possible.

And he could handle it.

Mark two up for Possible.

Sheldon did not regret a lot of things in his life, but he was beginning to regret that he hadn't learned Leslie's true colors earlier. There was no question of approaching her with the proposal now—no, his chance was long gone probably when he spewed the contents of his stomach all over her towels and sink. He sighed. Coulda, woulda, shoulda…


	13. Chapter 13

**13. Confidence is Key**

Leslie heard the news that Dr. Cooper won the chance to go on the North Pole expedition and cursed the committee for their unfairness. Her work in quantum loop gravity had just as much promise—no doubt he had pitched a fit for it. That was what irked her the most about the lanky theoretical physicist, people just stepped aside and _let_ him have anything he wanted—out of fear, fear of how much crazier he would get.

And on top of it all, he picked his friends for his team! It was not right, dammit! She enjoyed complaining about it with the others in the team's absence through the entire summer. There was not anything else to do without Wolowitz tweeting embarrassing things he witnessed strangers doing, or Leonard filling the quiet with his typical musings on one thing or another.

When they returned and it looked like Dr. Cooper was going to get the Nobel Prize—he made sure everyone knew it, especially her, with a great long email that she didn't read—Leslie considered getting a job at a different university, since his ego was going to take up all the room at Cal Tech.

But then it turned out to be falsified research. Shock went through the scientific community, but the whole thing was swept under the rug and no real details were given outside a disciplinary hearing with the board. Dr. Dumbass kept his job. Leonard, when asked, took full blame.

Outside of work, Leslie was getting used to the dating thing. She waited to feel attraction for the guy first, which she'd failed to do when she chose Leonard. It seemed at first that there was no one who could excite her like in the old days, and Leslie worried that she'd become too tough for that kind of thing. Kick dirt over sparks long enough, they stop shooting up. Katie kept her optimistic, and Elizabeth's epic romance kept her entertained while she kept a look out for the One who would be her Darcy.

_0000_

Leonard and Penny began sleeping together, and Sheldon bought noise-canceling headphones, since he didn't want to drive Leonard out of the apartment like he had done his last roommate. To occupy his free time now that his best friend in the world had a girlfriend distracting him, Sheldon worked hard over the next six months to over-come the embarrassment of the ruined experiments at the North Pole, and won an award for his efforts.

He let Penny dress him for the occasion and for the second time in his life, let his discomfort fuel his decision to sip an alcoholic beverage...

The next morning, his head was pounding so hard that he opened his eyes to see who kept punching him on top of the skull. It was no one, except maybe the sunlight, which was far too bright for—whatever time it was—whatever _day_ it was. Sheldon sat up slowly and found that he was still wearing the clown suit Penny made him wear. That was strange, but apart from that and the headache, nothing else seemed amiss. He looked around his room and saw the new award sitting on his shelf.

What had happened last night?

He could recall the start of the evening, his nerves, the alcohol, and then—

Blank.

He recognized the sudden bubbles in his stomach and ran to the bathroom. He made it to the toilet bowl this time. Once his stomach was empty it began to hurt. He had no idea if it was a natural part of the hang over or if it was simply his anxiety.

He stumbled out of his room and met Leonard and Penny in the kitchen, where they laughed at him and told him to watch the youtube clip. Sheldon sat at his desk and watched a clip of himself, staggering around talking as loud as he could and shouting when he wanted to make his point. He was eerily similar to his father—but somehow way worse.

In short, he insulted every mind in the room more than once, performed questionable stand-up comedy, took off his pants, and mooned a room of over one hundred people. But in Sheldon's great mind, worse things had happened while drunk.

Sheldon was just thankful he had woken up alone in his bed.

_0000_

It was movie night. Raj and Howard were there already and talking, or were, until Penny came in. Then it became Raj sitting quietly and Howard laying it on thick just in case Penny decided she wanted a tiny Jewish man right then and there.

It was Sheldon's turn to buy the Thai food. His messenger bag was beside his desk and he was in room. He'd jumped on his spare computer to run a quick simulation an hour ago and was still working. Howard was standing closest to the desk when Sheldon distractedly shouted permission, and the little man absently found the wallet as he debated his choice of the rented movies.

"Come on, its Bond, that means sexy women spies double-crossing each other!"

"Whatever," Penny was saying, "I'm good with watching that man anytime."

Howard chuckled, his reply about being like James Bond himself freezing on his lips as his deft fingers pulled not a pair of twenties from the wallet, but a thin square packet.

Leonard, smiling and blushing at something Penny had just done, glanced at his friend when Howard stopped talking mid-sentence. He stood there, one short mark of baby-blue against the color-scheme of the apartment, turning something over in his fingers to see all sides, his mouth open, his eyebrows kissing.

Raj, curious and unable to ask his questions aloud, stood and went to see for himself. Leonard didn't want to move away from Penny; she smelled too lovely and she'd just smiled at him.

"What is it Howard?" he asked across the room.

Raj whispered in Howard's ear, and Howard shook his head, "No, no, I swear it was right here!"

Penny frowned with interest and stood. Leonard followed her. "What are you looking at?"

Howard turned, breathless, and held up the marvel.

Leonard squinted, glanced at Penny, and licked his lips. "It's a condom," he said taking it, still confused. There was half a question there which Penny voiced, "What's the big deal?"

Howard looked at her and Leonard with his mouth still open. "What's the big deal? I just found that—" he quickly double-looked the hallway and lowered his voice to a loud hiss, "_in Sheldon's wallet_!"

Penny's eyes widened and she snatched the condom out of Leonard's hand. "_What_?"

Raj giggled and covered his mouth.

Leonard was shaking his head.

Penny was now the one inspecting the condom, as if turning it over three times would reveal what it really was.

Howard was shaking head to foot, and he fidgeted with the folds of the wallet in his hands like a boy who'd just discovered his father's secret stash. He kept glancing at the hallway. "Okay give it back," he said urgently.

Penny laughed, "Oh, no. This is seriously—Leonard, did you give this to him?"

Leonard blanched as if she'd accused him of buying alcohol for minors. "No! I don't know where he even got this!"

"Seriously," Howard said, reaching for it. "Put it back!"

"Why?" Penny asked, chuckling. "He said we can look in his wallet."

Leonard was still shaking his head, "Which means this isn't real. He's going to come out here and say Bazinga or something. Sheldon!" he called.

"SHH!" The rest of them hissed frantically. Howard put a hand to his chest, suffering from an on-set of his idiomatic arrhythmia. Leonard saved it by adding, as if just finding something he couldn't find. "Oh, never mind, here it is!"

Sheldon did not reply. Listening under the noise of the tv, they could hear the clicks of his keyboard unchanged in speed or ferocity. He'd bought it. They began breathing again. Raj took the condom, and Penny crossed her arms, shifting excitedly in place.

"So what does this mean? Sheldon, like…" for some strange reason, Penny couldn't finish the sentence. There wasn't a word for it. All of them were too normal, like the condom.

Nothing made sense!

Raj whispered something in Howard's ear, making him nod frantically, a drowning man given a lifesaver. "Yes, good point Raj!"

"What?" Leonard asked.

"Maybe he has it for something else."

"Like what?" Penny asked.

Howard shrugged, at a loss. "Science project—okay, you're right. I got nothing."

"I can't believe this."

"I know." Howard stole the condom and shook it. "Sheldon wants to have sex with someone!" he said bending his knees he was trying so hard to keep his voice down. He looked like he might cry with pride. "Our little bird is preparing to fly the nest."

Raj whispered again.

"What? Where?" Howard squinted at the small print on the package. "Oh my god, you're right!" he looked at Leonard and Penny, shaking the condom again. "He may already have! Look at this! He hasn't been carrying this thing since he was thirteen. Check out that date, this is a brand new one!"

Penny snatched it to read it aloud. "Expires 2010."

"Okay, this is Sheldon we're talking about here." Leonard said. "He checks the expiration on toothpaste, Howard. That doesn't mean anything. There is a reasonable, logical explanation as to why he has one of these."

Howard, Raj, and Penny looked at Leonard expectantly.

Leonard had nothing.

Penny was visibly toying with the idea of just going straight to Sheldon and asking out-right.

Raj shook a finger at the conundrum and opened his mouth, but nothing would come out. He swallowed and tried again. Penny, suppressing a sigh of pity, announced that she had to pee and disappeared into the bathroom.

Once alone with equals,

"Sheldon's never had sex," Raj said as if stating just another law of physics. "But that doesn't mean he doesn't want to. He's a man. We all have urges. He's practical, as Leonard just said." Raj shrugged. "He's just keeping his bases open."

"Yes, but its _Sheldon_. I mean, he's always talking about how he doesn't care about sex or people."

Raj looked at Leonard a little sadly. "What else is a man like Sheldon supposed to say?"

For the first time since meeting his roommate, Leonard felt honest pity for him. It was one thing to believe Sheldon's arrogant rants about the power of his mind. It was another to consider the other possibility—that he was only staying positive, shrugging it off; secretly trying and failing; like Edison, finding two-thousand ways how not to make a light bulb…

Leonard was shaking his head. "No. I can't believe Sheldon is looking for a hook-up."

"Leonard, come on, think about it, if he ever does meet a female of his species he wouldn't want to be caught without one, now would he?" Howard asked.

"Maybe not a hook-up," Raj reasoned, crossing his arms with another shrug. "But maybe his ideal potential lover," it was his turn to hold the condom. "We've assumed Sheldon wasn't human, but this puts Sheldon into one of four groups of men."

Howard and Leonard crossed their arms ready to hear this. "Go on."

"Man in group A picks up the woman and takes her back to his place, puts on a little music, lights the incense and treats her like a _goddess_." The pride in Raj's voice gave away that he was describing his big game plan, "He keeps his condoms in the medicine cabinet because he can afford to pause the moment to get ready."

Howard rolled his eyes, "Oh please,"

Raj's exotic face—made at some imaginary woman at the door, hardened into a lack of appreciation. He continued, glaring as he described the group in which Howard belonged, "Men in group B don't wait to get home. B Man carries his condoms on his person to be used in cars, restrooms, changing rooms-"

"Alright," Howard interjected coldly. Leonard scoffed. "Are you saying Sheldon is in group B?"

Raj held up his hand. "Let me finish, dude." He checked the hall for Sheldon or Penny before continuing, "Group C keeps their stash in the practical location of the bedside table," (Leonard fidgeted,) "an easy accessible place that doesn't slow down the evening, keeps the woman too excited to think about what she's doing."

"Whatever!" Leonard's ego cried. "It's smoother than A or B."

"But not D," Raj said. He paused for affect, parted his feet for a stronger stance as he delivered information on the smoothest group.

The group that Sheldon, in accordance to the evidence given, and by process of elimination, was now believed to belong.

"The last group obviously walks around prepared," Raj showed the condom and Sheldon's wallet, "but it's casual. If, after a drink or two, she wants him to walk her to her door, and the goodbye kiss gets a little exciting, he can come inside. D man is prepared to entertain her in her own home, where she can be calm, relaxed, and confident." There was a note of hero worship in Raj's voice for whatever man could be confident enough to pull off group D.

Sheldon was certainly confident—Leonard shook his head. "Listen to you, you're saying Sheldon would be able to just walk into someone else's apartment and be at home!"

"Well at least I have a theory, what do you two have?"

Penny hurried out of the bathroom when she heard Leonard and Raj's voices raise in debate. The argument was ended by her first step into the living room. Raj stopped speaking, and Leonard took the condom and wallet and put everything back exactly where it was, minus the forty bucks they'd originally been taking.

"What was Raj's point?" Penny asked.

Howard's mouth seemed to be dry. He jumped his eyebrows and fidgeted with the belt-loops of his baby-blue jeans. "Sheldon may be a semi pro in the game of love."

A halted laugh jumped out of her throat. "How's that?"

"Or at least, he thinks he is," Leonard said. "He's hoping for a night of passion that leads directly into marriage and children and the common social expectations of love."

Penny took a moment to translate that into pictures in her head that could make any sense at all. Sheldon and a night of passion still seemed like a bad practical joke, but she thought the rest of it could work, _maybe_, if the great mind of Sheldon Cooper could be directed by anything besides science stuff.

_0000_

Leonard was back with the food and discussion of Sheldon's deal was still is hot debate. They were even still gathered around Sheldon's messenger bag. "Wall of silence!" Leonard cried just moments before Sheldon finally emerged from his room for dinner. Howard looked like someone had replaced the glass roof of his candy factory with steel and he was in his glass elevator with the Up-and-Out button pressed. Upon seeing Sheldon, Raj felt a blush burning his cheeks and saw that he was not alone—they were suddenly like children nearly caught looking at something dirty.

Sheldon went straight to his spot, not noticing that his friends were knotted together rather tightly beside his desk. Everyone fanned out and took their seats. No one spoke. They fidgeted with eagerness to question him. Sheldon, of course, did not notice the strange looks and uneasy silences.

Every time Leonard opened his mouth, Penny shot him a threatening look that said plainly, _it is his business_, and so Leonard just ate his Thai food_._ Raj agreed with her—though that did not mean that his curiosity was not peaked. Howard was sitting quietly with his knees together, his head down, holding his plate under his nose so that he could avoid meeting eye contact.

The rules of the Wall of Silence were simple. Do not speak of the implied events without a direct question from whomever it concerned; in this case, they could not bring up the discovery of the condom until Sheldon asked if they had. In short, they were never going to know.

_0000_

"I mean, it's likely don't you think?" Howard was fidgeting in the way that he did when sex was on his mind. It was the next morning and Raj was giving him a ride into work because his scooter was getting details. Howard had been pondering aloud the likelihood of Sheldon being a schizophrenic with multiple personalities, leading a double life.

Raj laughed and shook his head, "No way, dude. I maintain the condom is a precaution against the possibilities of the future. No way does he have sex regularly."

"You can't know that!" Howard shot back, "I mean, think about it—what do we know about his private life?"

"Listen to yourself." Raj said, "It's Sheldon. He has no private life."

"I'm not so sure anymore." Howard said. "If he has time to buy condoms without our knowledge, he has time to use them, too."

Raj frowned. This was true. He shrugged, pushing unwelcome—and way too weird—images out of his head, "Okay, but you are forgetting one important thing."

"What?"

"He's a _nerd_, like us! He is not having sex any more than we are!"

Howard waved a hand, "Speak for yourself, I do alright, and Sheldon's taller than me so there you go."

"So? I'm more _exotic_ than you and I still don't get any."

"You would if you could _talk_ to women without being a drunken jackass!"

It was a backwards compliment, but it still made Raj feel good.

Howard twisted in the passenger seat, folding one leg up in order to face the driver. "Look at it this way. He's the tallest, he's the strongest, he's the smartest—and now we have proof that he is not a robot and _does _in fact have a deal! How is it that you are not seeing him in a completely different light now?"

Raj said nothing and pondered instead the strange new behavior in his best of friends. Howard rarely spoke of Sheldon at all except to comment on his Crazy, and now he was showering him with praise? Raj knew that Howard had an overactive imagination and a skewed idea of what sex was really like due to all of the adult movies and prostitutes.

No doubt, he had started imagining Sheldon as capable of being the male lead of a skin flick. The thought literally made ERROR signs flash in Raj's mind as if the Matrix had failed to load an image into his brain properly. It came as no surprise to him, however, that Howard could imagine it, since the little man so easily thought of himself in that way.

Why he so obviously _entertained_ these thoughts of Sheldon was another thing entirely and Raj chalked it up to hero worship. After all, he took the time to imagine how various superhero's would do it for the purposes of a fan fiction, so Raj understand that part of it, at least, but he still couldn't imagine Sheldon being anyone's hero outside the realm of physics.

"Alright," Howard said and Raj heard it in his tone that he had realized he was getting carried away. "I do recall this is still the same _Sheldon_ that takes two showers a day, washes his hands as often as possible, and brings his own fork to restaurants. You're right—the odds that the condom is merely a precaution for the many variables of the unknown future are paramount, BUT," He interjected eagerly, "You _cannot_ deny that the act of taking these precautions in the first place is PROOF that he _does_ have a sex drive."

"That, or he is aware that a day will come when he _will_ have a sex drive—maybe we should start looking out for cocoons."

"Larva jokes aside, Raj, this is serious!"

"Dude, I don't want to think about Sheldon having sex."

"I can't stand this." Howard said as Raj parallel parked swiftly. "I'm asking him."

"Wall of Silence, dude!

"Wall-schmall." Howard said and leapt out of the car.

They waited on the sidewalk in the early morning light of California. It wasn't long before Leonard pulled into Sheldon's parking spot—Sheldon got a spot of his own after several strongly worded letters. The two hurried to the car's side as Leonard and Sheldon got out.

Then, it happened, Howard actually _broke_ the Wall of Silence for the first time in eight years.

"So we saw what you keep in your wallet."

Leonard gasped, astonished that the Wall had been broken. Sheldon frowned at him, otherwise not fazed or displaying worry at all, simply asking, "When? Yesterday?"

"Yes, and we saw _it_."

Sheldon frowned again, his hand absently going to the side pocket of the messenger bag. Some delicate prompting from Leonard, who wasn't going to hold back since the wall was already broken, finally made Sheldon understand what it was they were delicately trying to avoid saying.

"Oh, you mean the condom." He said matter-of-factly. His tone immediately killed the buzz of the moment. It had to have been for a science project if he could talk about it like one. A long silence suspended the moment in which only Howard moved, fidgeting.

"Well?" He exploded, "Aren't you going to tell us why you have it?"

Sheldon gave the little man a bewildered look from his odd behavior and blinked, "I think the practicality of a condom is general knowledge."

"Sheldon," Leonard cut in, gently, before the man standing with heels together, toes apart and fingers gripping the strap across his chest could launch into an eighth grade Sex-Ed speech. "I think Howard is trying to ask you if you plan to _use_ it."

"Of course," Sheldon said with a twitch, "If the situation arises, it would be illogical to proceed without one—"

"If?" Raj cut in.

"Well, yes, I certainly don't have any plans—"He scoffed and looked at Raj with something like pity, "Your inability to understand that my work comes before all else surprises me, though I realize it shouldn't, didn't even know my favorite amino acid." He pursed his lips as Raj sputtered.

"So you _don't_ have sex." Leonard said, his head back on his neck as he stood, pleased with being proven right.

"Please," Sheldon snorted and strode away. Leonard, Raj and Howard remained behind. Leonard looked comforted, as if he had found a nightmare to be just that. Howard was staring after Sheldon with significant disappointment. Raj hissed, "Told you!" as Leonard pulled out his phone and texted Penny.

"Okay, okay, okay," Howard said, "so he's not a stud."

"Stud?" Leonard echoed looking at Howard from under low eyebrows, but he was ignored, Howard continued, "But we have to consider the obvious here."

Leonard sent the text and crossed his arms, "What's that?"

"Maybe a little sex will make him—you know—tolerable."

It was a novel idea. Sheldon was easiest to be around when he was happy. "You propose we find him a girlfriend?"

"Not a _girlfriend_ per say."

"No! I'm not pooling money to get him a hooker!" Leonard cried.

"I was actually thinking more along the lines of a little bout of stress release." Howard said, raising his eyebrows. "Don't we know a smokin' hot—not to mention intelligent (which he is bound to go for)—physicist that preys on the smart and lonely?"

"Leslie?" Raj asked.

They turned and watched the thin man pass the dark woman reading in her usual spot on the low wall lining the lawn. Neither acknowledged the other. It was just another day with two different worlds living in harmony next to each other unless crossed.

"I don't know, dude, they hate each other."

"It's _Sheldon_," Howard said, "Emotions won't have anything to do with it."

"Yeah," Leonard said, "and Leslie is good at detachment."

"Think of a world with a _happy_ Sheldon!" Howard said. Raj witnessed both of their pupils dilate as they imagined a sunny, smiling world where spontaneous dance numbers paraded down the street and everyone got free ice cream.

"That does sound ideal for him." Leonard said in something of awe.

"Yes, but," Raj said, feeling uncomfortable. Unlike the other two, he had yet to be hooked by the man-eater, and had had instead front row seats to her vicious nature. "What if, like the praying mantis, she bites his head off when she's finished mating with him?"

Once again, their eyes dilated as they imagined losing their friend—this time the spontaneous dance numbers down the street and free ice cream came _forever_. Howard snapped out of it first, smiling and fidgeting.

"I'm gonna go see if she's up for it."

"_No_," Leonard said, catching Howard's elbow. He looked sorry to be saying it aloud, but it needed to be said, "It's none of our business."

_0000_

His business schmis business, Howard had to get Sheldon and Leslie to hook up. He felt like he'd stumbled upon the secret of time travel or something; was he supposed to just look the other way when _someone else_ could make this paradigm altering discovery-that Sheldon did in fact have a deal—and get credit for changing the world? Because for Howard, it would, of course, change the world. He was convinced that _eine kliene BANGBANG musik_ would make Sheldon relax and stop acting so insane _all the time_—this was a matter of world peace.

So he ignored Penny, and Leonard, and Raj, and he hurried to get to the cafeteria first, ahead of the others, to see Leslie there, since he was officially banned from entering her lab. She wasn't there yet though, and he ended up dancing anxiously in place, banging his fists on his thighs as he tried to see over the shoulders of the crowd.

Leonard and Raj arrived first, and shared a knowing look on their way over.

"Howard, _no_," Leonard said sternly, like a parent.

"What?" Howard tried to play it cool. Raj lifted an eyebrow.

"All right, fine, you caught me, I'm going to ask Leslie out for Sheldon-Oh, there she is!" Howard said.

"Howard—" Leonard started, but the little man had already puffed out his chest and hurried away importantly with a departing, "Operation get Sheldon Cooper in the sack has now commenced."

"Howard!" Leonard called to no avail.

Howard power walked through the crowding cafeteria to Leslie Winkle's side just as she stepped into the lunch line. She smiled at him. "Hey Howard."

"Hey, Les, what's up?"

She sighed, "Well my research isn't going to so well for the—"

"Oh, too bad!" Howard cried, before she could get to the bad part, "Listen, you know what would make you feel better? A night out on the town! It just so happen a friend of mine needs a favor and-"

Leslie shook her head. "Oh, no thanks, Howard, I thought I made it clear to you that I'm not interested in you anymore."

Howard's laugh was his brace against the harsh reminder, but he pushed through it—his eyes on the Nobel Peace Prize. Leonard and Raj were now at his elbows looking apprehensive but not altogether apologetic for failing to stop this.

"Listen," Howard said, spreading his fingers wide, "We've decided Sheldon will be less of a pain if he could just mellow out, and who better to do that than a woman who's mellowed all the rest of us?"

Leslie's eyebrows moved closer together. "Say what now?"

"We're saying that Sheldon is on the market for a little _fun_," Howard said. "The problem is the market doesn't meet the right criteria—except for you."

"Yeah, you're actually, believe it or not, the closest match." Leonard supplied.

"So what do you say? Huh?" Howard was on his toes, and clasped his hands, "Please, help us, Leslie Winkle, you're our only hope!" he cried.

The lunch line was moving but Leslie was standing still, staring back at the three men, more amused than they were expecting. "Sheldon?" she asked. "I thought grad students were hanging all over him."

Leonard stepped up, tearing away at his thumbnail. "What? No, no, only Ramona, really, and that didn't go anywhere—Sheldon can't stand the grad students, he only let's them clean the apartment."

"Oh."

"The thing is: we all really like you, as a friend, so you would be a welcome addition to our group if you would consider Sheldon—I know he is a little high maintenance, but he really is a nice guy, once you get to know him," he insisted sincerely. Then he flinched, "You know…once you look past his Crazy."

"Way past," Howard mumbled.

They all tried a look of amusement as if that had been a small joke.

Leslie said nothing and looked between them all in deep thought.

"Move the line!" Someone called from the back.

Leslie closed the gap and the four of them bought their trays in silence as Sheldon entered the lunchroom at a relatively laid-back but brisk gait, something of a smile of contentment on his face. It was Raj who directed their attention to him.

"So?" Howard asked as Leslie watched Sheldon toy with his silverware and napkin as he waited in line.

She was actually considering it!

"What do you think?" Howard asked breathlessly.

She shrugged, disinterested. "Been there, done that."

And she was gone.

They stood starring after her like three small rocks in a brook as the crowd of hungry scientists broke around them to find seats. Sheldon eventually filtered through, holding his neatly organized tray at chest level as he paused at their side, noting that the entire universe seemed to have rendered all three of them quizzical.

"Well don't hurt yourselves, I'll write it all down eventually," he said, apparently in a whimsical mood, as he laughed at his own joke. His voice broke the spell.

Howard blinked quickly, Raj scratched his head, and Leonard pivoted on a heel to look up at Sheldon with levels of confusion that broke the gauge when his eyes landed on Sheldon's happily pursed lips.

"Hold on," Leonard said scathingly. He marched toward Leslie without further explanation, forcing Sheldon to follow.

Leslie had taken a seat at the corner of a long table and dug in, hungry.

She'd just opened her diet coke when Leonard crashed into the seat in front of her, followed closely by Howard and Raj as they dropped down beside him, their knees in the seats as they leaned over the table to crowd her. Sheldon stepped up calmly, and took the only seat left, the one beside her.

Just like that morning, neither acknowledged the other one.

"What the hell does 'been there, done that' mean?" Leonard asked before anything settled.

Sheldon looked up with a frown of interest. "It seems to imply that something had been done before and is unlikely to be repeated."

Leslie glanced up from her salad with a brief smile at him. "Yeah, pretty much."

Sheldon double looked her, but popped the top of his diet coke with no further interest in the matter and inserted the bendy-straw, bent at an exact ninety-five degree angle.

Both picked up their drinks, took long pulls at their straws, and set the cans down with a syncopated chink, his eyes on his food, hers on the book she opened on an index card. The separate worlds were back.

Howard, Raj, and Leonard stared at the pair.

"Nuh-uh!" Leonard exploded, thumping a fist into the table, making Sheldon jump and tearing Leslie away from the story in her hands.

"You don't get to act oblivious, Leslie, you have to explain to us how the hell something like this could have happen and neither of you told us!"

"Excuse me," Sheldon interjected. "But what are we talking about here?"

"You, Leslie and that condom that we found in your wallet!" Leonard cried.

Leslie looked at Sheldon. "Oh you keep one now?"

He nodded.

Leonard sputtered. Howard's jaw hit the table, and Raj stopped breathing.

"_What_?"

Sheldon looked at Leonard, his look something close to concern for this inability to process information. "I told you Leonard that I was going to be prepared."

"Yes, but you didn't say 'prepared for the _next time'_—you never said there was a _last_ time—will somebody please, for the love of God, fill us in on what is going on here?"

Leslie was laughing. Sheldon, taking her cue, was smiling with actual mirth.

Howard was looking down his long nose at all of them, his mouth still agape. "_What's so funny_?" the engineer gasped.

"So I guess you never told them?" Leslie said to Sheldon.

He shook his head, his fingers fluttering over his napkins. "They never asked," he said primly, briefly meeting her eye. An understanding passed between them. His eye ticked. She adjusted her glasses, returning to her food.

Leonard was flummoxed.

Sheldon was able to see the questions on each of their faces and sighed. "It happened before I met any of you." He began.

"What, was it seven years ago?" Leslie mused.

"Eight," Sheldon corrected cordially.

Leslie frowned and shrugged like, there-you-go. "It wasn't a big deal then, so it's even less now." This comment caused Sheldon to give her a double take, but he said nothing.

Leonard's eyebrows were lost in his hairline and he looked painfully at Sheldon. "You've been lying to me this _whole time_?"

"No. I never lied to anyone, Leonard, because no one ever asked the question. I_ have_ told you countless times that I am focusing on my work above such matters and I have been doing nothing else."

Leonard stared at Sheldon and Leslie, side-by-side and looking at the rest of them like it was a simple IQ quiz that was taking too long to tell them a score that they already knew.

Leonard could not bring up another image of Sheldon and Leslie on the same side of anything, ever. Years of name-calling, loathing—relationships sabotaged in the name of archenemies—a mandatory inter-department workshop about getting along with colleagues opened _because of them_—and Sheldon 'kept a condom now.'

The implications of that statement were too great to compute.

"But—but-You two hate each other!" Leonard cried.

"Yeah," Leslie said, nodding.

Sheldon nodded. "It's true. Her research methodology is sloppy, she's unjustifiably arrogant about quantum loop gravity, and to make matter's worse, she's often mean to me," he said, quoting himself verbatim, though no one knew, because this was the first time they hung onto his every word.

Leslie nodded and shrugged. "And he's a dumbass," she said. Then her forehead wrinkled and she looked at Sheldon. "Wait, 'unjustifiably arrogant?' _Me_?"

His eyebrows pointed as he looked at her. "'Dumbass?' _Me_?"

Daggers were thrown between the two angry faces; a stalemate was met.

She growled, picked up her fork and stabbed her plate. Sheldon set his jaw, picked up his sandwich and took a rather savage bite, chewing it with his attention fixed on the vending machine as if he was hoping to make it explode.

Leonard sat back, crossed his arms, and looked at the guys. Howard was baffled and touched his shoulders to his ears, shook his head. Raj held his palms up at shoulder height, his eyes wide and his frown deep.

"Okay…" Leonard said, falling quiet to mull it over, but did not get far, crying once again, "…_What_?"

Howard started shaking his head, his eyes unfocused. "No, I'm sorry, Leslie, but I just can't imagine that _this_ is the 'laid-back' Sheldon who's already had sex! I mean what in the world would he have been like before?"

She shrugged. "I don't know; I didn't really get to know him beforehand. I was just a grad-student; he was already a Doctor—"

"She got me drunk," Sheldon interjected coldly.

She shrugged. "And you know how that goes." She waved it aside and went back to her book.

Leonard's eyebrows were up as he reevaluated Sheldon with the facts. Raj looked impressed with Leslie. Howard shook his head. "I don't believe he could have slept with anyone—even if it was with you, in your prime."

Her eyebrows jumped at the implication of her age. "Gee, thanks."

"Now I resent that statement," Sheldon said, placing his sandwich back on the paper plate and dusting his fingers. "Raj is forgiven for his actions when he is drunk. Why cannot I be excused for mine?"

Leslie looked at the Indian man. "What happens when you drink?" she asked.

"He's able to actually talk to women," Leonard answered for him. Leslie frowned with interest. "Oh, well, then in that case, we should grab a beer or something later."

Raj's eyebrows rose. Howard leaned forward to see around Leonard, and Sheldon lurched forward, "Raj, I advise you against the idea. Unless of course you _are_ looking for coitus; as I know it to be the outcome, in my limited experience."

"Your limited experience is with the old Leslie. Leonard, you'll contest that I am looking for a committed relationship."

Leonard had to nod.

Raj was sitting very, very still; looking from Leslie to Sheldon and then back to Leslie, and then back to Sheldon. Finally, he relaxed and shrugged rather casually, making Leslie smile as she stood with her tray.

"Well, guys. Dumbass. I have to get back to work, but Raj, text me later about that drink, yeah?"

Glancing again at Sheldon, Raj gave a thumbs-up.

As soon as Leslie was out of ear-shot, Raj slapped his hands on the table, looking at Sheldon with wide eyes, "Dude, would it be alright with you if I got drinks with her?"

Sheldon smiled. "Raj, I thank you asking, and my answer is of course no."

"What the hell man, I could be just what she is looking for!"

"Hold on, Raj, how about asking me or Howard if it's okay?" Leonard asked, hurt.

Raj looked at them a little sheepishly. "Well is it?"

Leonard and Howard both looked after Leslie for moment and then shrugged, disinterested.

"Ah, go for it."

"No, no," Sheldon said, stopping Raj's fist pump. "The vote has to be unanimous among us and I have not changed mine."

"Dude what the hell? Why not?"

"I told you why not. Her research methodology is sloppy. She's unjustifiably arrogant about quantum loop gravity and to makes matters worse she's—"

"Dude, we're not talking about her work at the university as a scientist," Raj said. "We are talking about Leslie Winkle as a woman, and possibly _mine_!" he sounded like a little boy on Santa Claus's lap, wishing for a pony.

"But she's mean to me!" Sheldon cried.

"Well you're mean to her." Raj countered with a shrug.

"She started it!" Sheldon whined.

Raj leveled eyes on him. "If I ask Leslie would she say the same about you?"

Sheldon looked a little sheepish. "She would."

Raj nodded. Leonard beamed at him. "Well played."


	14. Chapter 14

**Author's Note:**_ we depart from canon now, because this was written preSeason 3, before we knew anything about the real Amy character :) (but really, apart from her job, we were pretty close! lol)_

**14. The Fera Fowler Experience**

Leslie had always wondered who the astro-physicist from India was. No one had a bad thing to say about Dr. Koothrapali not even Howard, who had bad things to say about everyone. His selective mutism was a bitch, and she was sorry that the usual therapy did nothing for him, because he seemed to be a great guy. It would have been her luck, spending years dating all of the losers in the university, only to find that what she'd been looking for the whole time was behind the nervous smile Howard's best friend gave her every day.

Learning that all it took was a beer or two, she'd jumped on the chance to solve the mystery, to find out once and for all if she'd been wasting her time; overlooking Waldo a hundred times. He texted her the next day, and they walked to the bar in silence, but after a few drinks, she knew who she was talking to. Raj was a normal guy; just a man who'd come to America for the opportunities and didn't miss home at all. He chatted live with his parents on the web and even that was too much for him. He was an avid reader of all sorts, mainly comic-books these days, but he did have a collection of Indian novels that he liked to revisit occasionally.

She was interested in him. He wasn't at all what she'd expected: another Howard or Leonard or a weird cross-breed between the two. Raj was Raj. He had focused opinions on just about everything and accepted her differing views with respect. No debate, just talk. It was a nice change.

When she told him she would like to grab drinks with him more often, he agreed, but, burping quietly behind his fingers, he added, "But, I think it should just be as friends, you know? Not that you aren't a wonderful girl, it's just weird for me you know? You being with Howard and Leonard and Sheldon too," he laughed and hiccupped.

Leslie thought she should feel some kind of offense, but why? It was the truth. She realized she was smiling and nodding. "Your right, it is weird I guess."

"Yes, it is! You were with _Sheldon_!"

She shrugged, looking at the grain of the table. "I was a kid."

Raj's smile dipped ever-so-slightly, and Leslie felt like she had her foot in her mouth. It must have been the beer that had made it so easy to say it without actually saying it—she would really have to find a way to control this new power of hers—because it was out there now, and Raj had detected it.

She sat with clenched stomach and slow breath as he sipped his drink quietly. Then he did something that made her consider him one of her best friends in the world; He didn't mention it.

Raj was a great guy, so great that he wasn't interested in her because of her track-record. It was as she feared. No decent guy would want her now. Some Elizabeth.

She felt such a sharp pang of regret through the rest of the night that it drove her out of bed a good two hours before her alarm. It was the weekend, she usually did nothing but read on the weekends these days, but she couldn't be alone right now, and she couldn't call Katie to keep the quite away. So, despite having a stack of new books that needed to be read, she went to the bookstore again, just to be around her oldest friends.

It was so early that she assumed she was the first customer of the day, so it was a surprise to find someone in her section, the historical fiction section. It was a man, tall, dark, and handsome, and he was holding a stack of books, looking through them with his mouth bunched entirely to the right side of his cleanly shaven face.

She stopped so abruptly that she drew his attention. He looked up in surprise and then his mouth spread out evenly across his face in a smile. "Good morning."

She smiled tightly and gave a nod of polite greeting. She didn't need this. She didn't want company here. She wanted peace and quiet.

She turned to the bookshelf, found the first familiar title and pulled it down to reminisce over the story. She remembered it as one of her favorites, but she'd only ever read it once. She began flipping through it to refresh her memory.

"Ooh, good choice," the man said, spotting the cover.

Leslie put it back. "I know."

"It's one of mine," he said.

"Yeah, mine too," Leslie said distantly, pulling a few more down to study.

The man chuckled. "No, I mean it's one of mine. I wrote it."

Leslie looked up, seeing the man for the first time. It was. He looked different than the black-and-white author picture, older now, and not frozen in a cheesy pose. "You're Vince Prat?"

He nodded, smiling humbly.

Leslie restrained herself from gushing (what she remembered most from the book was a fantastic love scene) and asked for an autograph. He asked for a number, which she gave without a second thought. How often did something like this happen? Never. She was too swept up in the excitement and surprise to stop and think about what she really needed, about the promise she'd made to herself to be single for a while.

_0000_

One of two things can happen when someone meets their hero. Either the hero is nothing like they thought they were, or the hero is exactly like them. When Sheldon finally got the chance to meet one of his childhood heroes, Will Wheaton, he found that they were nothing alike, this man who could say his MeeMaw was dead just to win a card game. Sheldon was competitive, but not that competitive, deceiving in such a manner. It was wrong. It had to be stopped. Sheldon had thought he had an enemy in Leslie Winkle, but that was nothing compared to his need to crush Will Wheaton. He knew now what hate was—in comparison, his hate for Leslie Winkle wasn't even noteworthy, just a little inter-departmental spat.

This had nothing to do with science. This was simple Right versus Wrong, Good versus Evil. He wrote to Meemaw and told her all about it, and in the next issue of Sheldor, a new villain appeared, this one cunning and pure evil just like Will Wheaton, but still no match for the Conqueror. Sheldon knew that Meemaw was trying to help, but he could not rest until the real Will Wheaton was destroyed.

Bowling. Not Wii Bowling, but an actual team, in an actual bowling alley with public-use balls and shoes. Sheldon brought his own ball and his own shoes, and so much determination to beat Will Wheaton that he wasn't above asking Jesus for a little help. It didn't matter if He was real or not. It couldn't hurt asking. Though Sheldon didn't really ask, just demanded, over and over again, that if there was a God then justice would be served tonight.

He was winning-_there was a God_.

And then there wasn't.

Penny ran out of the alley with tears in her eyes, and Leonard stopped doing anything but sitting there with his pride on the floor and his heart in pieces around him. He'd lost her. She was gone, and it was because of his _stupid_ big fat mouth. Why the hell did he have to say the L word? He'd scared her off. She didn't love him, didn't think she ever would.

She never would.

Leonard felt like he was dying.

Sheldon was concerned.

He'd seen Will Wheaton talking to Penny. He knew whatever was said was behind her decision to break Leonard in half. He asked for details, but she wouldn't tell. She wouldn't talk to any of them. She was trying to extract herself from Leonard's life—from all of their lives—for good.

Sheldon used to hope she would come to this conclusion. He would imagine his life the way it was before Penny, in that simple time when it was just him and the guys and science, and he would wish he actually had a time machine to use to stop Leonard from saying hello to her.

But now Sheldon knew better.

Even if he'd had a time machine, he couldn't have stopped Penny from meeting Leonard, from Leonard falling in love with her.

He still didn't necessarily approve of the attachment, but like the law of gravity, it was just something lamentable that must be lived with—he'd have written it differently, but it was in stone. Leonard loved Penny, and he would not be happy without her in his life.

Sheldon had never bothered to be concerned for anyone who wasn't literally dying slowly like PawPaw, or Dad, or Lucky.

But then again, he wasn't entirely sure that his best friend wasn't dying slowly. Leonard stopped eating full meals. He slept late, he went to bed early. He stopped counting days until Comic-Con.

Sheldon had to do something. The most he could do was maintain the tenuous friendship he'd established with the waitress. At first he was afraid to let Leonard know what he was doing, but lies made his stomach hurt, and he told Leonard that he wanted to stay friends with Penny.

Leonard and Penny agreed to follow along, pretend like nothing was wrong, for his sake, as if he was a child and they were his divorcing parents; probably because it meant she wouldn't have to go through the trouble of moving out of the building.

Sheldon began to hope that it would blow over, that after a while they could try again, again. Third times the charm...

Then Raj and Howard forced him to go to a coffee shop to a meet a girl they found through the hokum science of dating sites. He was surprised to find a kindred soul waiting for him.

Amy Fera Fowler was a scientist as well, working in botany and bioengineering. She maintained polite acquaintance with her colleagues, preferred being alone and several hobbies filled her free time. Her closest friend was her mother, who as Sheldon understood it, filled the space in her life that MeeMaw filled in his.

She _understood_. She did not ignore it or "just go with it" as his other friends did. She _genuinely_ understood why he did not eat, sit, or sleep in unfamiliar places. She understood what it was like not being able to notice social cues or read emotions and so was in the habit of stating things clearly and honestly—it was by far the easiest conversation Sheldon had ever had. He was happy when she agreed to see him again.

A week later, they were strolling down the sidewalk. She held the strap of her purse; he walked with his hands clasped behind his back. She was laughing from his antidotes about what it was like to live with Leonard. Although it was not his intention—he had been simply trying to illustrate the obstacles he encountered in his daily life as he pursued science—he found he liked that he made her laugh. He liked her laugh and an idea occurred to him that he could not get out of his head.

The facts were that he was _always_ tense from the pressures of work and the discomfort of living in a world that just did not _understand_. To put it frankly, his merciless control over his libido only added to the problem. Sure, he took more cold showers than he would like, and sure sometimes he felt alienated and lonely, but those things were _emotions_, not worthy to get in his way.

His beloved Logic led him to consider Friends with Benefits, and his sexual attraction to Amy led him to proposing the idea to her (several months into their friendship to keep any possible discomfort to a minimum.) To his delight, she agreed with his thesis. He then found himself letting her into his room and putting a tie on his door. (He had noted an irrational feeling of being _cool_ as he did so.)

In private and trying to rope control over the rodeo of nerves, desire, and second thoughts inside of him, he stepped out of his shoes and sat on the side of his bed beside his lovely smelling friend. She smiled shyly. He gulped, thought that they had to start somewhere and so—in a spurt of boldness—kissed her.

The kissing was nice at first but the longer it went on, he found that there was too much contact, too much saliva-too many variables, too many things out of control, (he thought wildly of getting on a roller coaster with no seat restraints as a light pink, well filled bra was made completely visible to him.) He suddenly remembered he_ hated_ roller coasters.

He could not handle it.

"Wait," He said and he felt an irrational urge to make himself shut up and go with it, but he controlled the emotion, "I don't think I can do this."

Amy looked relieved, "Me, either." She returned his personal space back to him and began buttoning up her shirt again.

"I'm sorry," he said.

"Don't be, you're logic was sound."

"I hadn't taken other things into consideration, like that I do not like feeling out of control."

Amy nodded, understanding—Sheldon felt a great surge of affection for her when she did. "The fact is that sex is over rated and both of us allowed the world to tell us otherwise."

"I couldn't have put it better myself." Sheldon said, standing.

Both of them ignored the fact that her words were an obvious excuse; they were the lifeboat that was going to get them out of this disastrous idea. Amy left and Sheldon sought the comfort of the only place in the world where he had absolute control—his spot.

Sitting in silence through the night, he contemplated the new data. His experience told him that alcohol would allow him to relax and ignore the risks, to enjoy the situation, but he was _not _willing to drink. However, he now knew that sex while sober was equally undesirable.

He sighed. He would have to abandon his new and ideal Mode of Operation and return to the old way, locking it all in a box and rising above it.

_Drat_.

The next morning, Leonard tip-toed out of the hallway with a goofy smile on his face which dropped when he saw Sheldon was up and sitting in his spot in deep contemplation. Leonard straightened and looked back down the hall. "Good morning," he said, the smile creeping back onto his face.

Sheldon did not return the greeting but erased something he had written in the air.

Leonard scratched his eyebrow. "I saw the tie last night, buddy." He said happily.

Sheldon frowned. "Oh yes, I forgot to take it off the door knob."

Leonard started his coffee, noting his friend's sour tone. "Did it not go well with Amy?"

"No," was all Sheldon offered until he had worked out the equation on his imaginary whiteboard and walked into the kitchen to start his tea.

"No?" Leonard asked. "But she's so perfect for you!"

"I know!" Sheldon said, crossing his arms in front of the refrigerator. "Amy is a nice woman but—I don't know, she reminds me to much of….myself."

Leonard bit back a laugh. It was unbelievable. Sheldon's Crazy was too much even for _Sheldon_. "Okay, so what _did_ happen?"

"We kissed, but—the germs," Sheldon shivered.

Leonard frowned up at him. "Germs? Didn't you kiss Leslie?"

Sheldon's back straightened and he dropped his hands to his sides. "Let's not use that as a reference. It was eight years ago. Really I wouldn't recall a bit of it if it wasn't for my eidetic memory."

Leonard smiled at the _if_, remembering his own first time eight years ago with Joyce Kim. He did not have an epidictic memory and he still recalled it with perfect clarity and always would. He did not say as much to Sheldon.

"But you _did_ kiss her and look you aren't dead or sick, are you?"

Sheldon paused with his tea strainer over the mug. "I did vomit all over her bathroom, though I know that to have been the consequences of the alcohol, for I must remind you once again that the little harlot got me _drunk_."

Leonard laughed—he had actually been talking about Amy. Sheldon was still thinking about Leslie. He chose not to correct him and said, "Yes, and we've all seen how you get when you drink. If you took your pants off like last time, then I'm no longer surprised she slept with you. Leslie probably thought you knew what you were doing and was just reacting to it."

Sheldon licked his lips. "Well I suppose you could be right." His eye ticked. Leonard studied him with a partly amused expression. It was always a nice feeling to tell Sheldon something he did not already know.

"Though the two situations were entirely different," Sheldon said "and Leslie didn't get me as drunk as I was at the benefit. Do me a favor Leonard, and don't ever let Penny get near me with hard liquor again."

"Deal," Leonard said. "But I don't understand. If all you need to do is have some drinks to relax like Koothrapali then why didn't you try that with Amy?"

"I promised my mother that I wouldn't, Leonard, and with the exception of Leslie and Penny's trickery, I haven't. Besides I've come to the conclusion that Friends with Benefits isn't for me and Amy isn't the type of woman I'm looking for."

"Your type?" Leonard asked. He took a closer look at the man in the kitchen, seriously considering pod-people to be the explanation. Surely, the Sheldon he knew would never use the phrase, "the type of woman I'm looking for."

"Since when do you have a _type_?" He asked.

Sheldon ignored the question to put forth his findings. "Amy is a near match to me in intelligence, but she isn't very strong in her beliefs. Surely you've noticed her tendency to simply agree with the majority of the group?—Altogether an undesirable trait for someone like me. Being right all the time wouldn't be half as fun if I was just _allowed_ to be right."

Leonard climbed onto a stool, smiling despite his friend's obvious dilemma—he just could not get over it that they were talking about Sheldon's _relationship_ problems. He felt a strong sense of affection for his roommate upon realizing that Sheldon would not be saying all of this to just anybody.

"In addition to those traits," Sheldon was saying, "my ideal woman must be able to counter my temper. For instance, she would never let a man drink and yell at her, and make her cry as my mother _continuously_ allowed my father to do," his voice grew hard as he slapped the faucet into the on position to rinse his tea strainer.

Leonard's eyebrow shot up. He did not miss the tone and asked, "You think you're likely to become an alcoholic?"

"Addiction is a deeply lamented problem in the Cooper family, Leonard, just look at my cousin Leo."

"You don't have a cousin Leo!"

"Yes, but multiple people now believe I do because I've based it so closely to reality and the scientific facts of human addiction."

Leonard took a deep breath and accepted Sheldon's point, despite the falsified evidence that supported it. Mary Cooper had stood in this very room years ago and admitted that Sheldon had his father's temper. It was just as likely he could develop some of the same habits.

Leonard blinked rapidly as he experienced an epiphany. The thin man fixing his morning tea was no longer the asexual physicist Leonard had become friends with... He could see that this was just another man trying desperately not to become his father; in Sheldon's case, taking it to his usual extreme by refusing to even consider the occasional drink in the first place.

"You're never going to be an alcoholic, Sheldon. I mean, I'm sure you father's problem was made worse by the strain of taking care of a whole family. You have a promising career and you don't drink on principle."

Sheldon nodded. "You're right."

Leonard felt like he should clap Sheldon on the shoulder, give him a brotherly hug or something, but he knew all contact was off the table. Instead, he toasted his mug of coffee, "Of course I am; it's science, evolution. You're the first in a new species of Cooper."

Sheldon smiled. "I am aren't I?" he shrugged and took his tea to his desk. Typical Sheldon, planning for even the most remote of scenarios, he added, "I would still prefer her to have no tolerance for alcoholism and a temper that cancels mine, to reduce the risk."

Leonard shrugged. "Sure, don't we all?"

"Since Amy failed to meet the requirement, I am back to my old beliefs on the matter."

"What were they exactly?"

"Science above all else—or at least until love finds me," his face ticked at the thought. Leonard considered pod-people again. Sheldon Cooper did not say things like "until love finds me"… but then, Sheldon Cooper did not sleep with Leslie Winkle and carry a condom. Apparently, Leonard knew much less about the real Sheldon Cooper than he could realize. Sheldon continued,

"And then it'll be science and love above all else. But let's face it; the chances of the world producing a worthy woman to match me are virtually impossible."

_There_ was the Sheldon Leonard knew. He laughed from two parts relief and one part surprise, "Wow, Sheldon I had no idea you were such a romantic."

Sheldon shrugged; every bit the arrogant specimen that did not expect the world to understand the inner workings of his mind. Leonard left him to his emails and went to his room to figure out what his type was—it'd suddenly become clear to him that 'anyone willing' was, amazingly, to broad a spectrum.


	15. Chapter 15

**15. The North Pole 2.0**

Sheldon was called to Gablehousers' office, where he received the most startling news.

When he arrived, there were four other people in the room, one of them Leslie Winkle. He shook his head when he saw her. If this was about the sign-up sheet again…Sheldon ignored her pointedly as he greeted his boss.

"Dr. Cooper," Gablehouser said, getting straight to the point, "we formally invite you to join an Artic expedition to the North Pole, to re-try your experiment with mono-poles," the man said.

Sheldon took a full step back. "What?"

"Considering the circumstances under which your last research was gathered, the scientific community finds it difficult to accept the data. We've been saving up the money for another go, and thanks to a generous donation by Professors Winkle over at UCLA we are able to send a team up this summer. What do you think?"

Sheldon was at a complete loss for words. "What do I think? This is amazing! When do we leave? Oh, I have to tell Leonard!"

Gablehouser held up a hand, "One moment, Dr. Cooper. You will be leading the expedition, but I have already chosen a team for you—we don't need a repeat of last time."

Sheldon deflated. His friends couldn't come? He couldn't go without them! How was he going to go without them? His stomach started hurting as the presence of the other scientists in the room was suddenly explained.

"Meet your team, Dr. Kripke and Dr. Winkle you know. Have you met Dr. Smith and Ms. Dale? She's a brilliant engineer very excited to work with you."

Ms. Dale's praise eased him only slightly in the face of this great dilemma. He was looking down the barrel of a long summer of living with strangers. The thought of being away from the most familiar of faces, the most comfortable of routine's for an entire three months, surrounded by people who didn't know his rules, was terrifying, but a second chance did not come around often and he was going to take it for all it was worth.

After everyone but Leslie had spoken, she stepped forward with that venous smile, and Sheldon couldn't stop himself from speaking his mind, however unprofessional his thoughts, "A generous donation from Professors Winkle, was it? Well, if your mother and father paid for this trip why am I not surprised you made the team?"

"Dr. Cooper," Gablehouser said with formal warning laced in every syllable. One more remark like that and he wasn't going to the North Pole. Sheldon clamped his mouth shut. He needed this expedition. He could go no further in his quest without it.

"I'm sorry. I just don't see how her contributions are at all helpful. She is biased by her belief in loop quantum gravity!"

Leslie spoke up, "I see how you are under the impression that I am biased when it comes to this project, but as a result of my research, I have been unable to rule out String Theory for the past several months now."

Sheldon blinked at her. This was certainly paradigm altering.

Gablehouser beamed and lifted his arms as if to pull the whole team into a group hug. "Fantastic! Then the expedition is on, and I certainly look forward to the work that such a fine team as this will do together."

Great thanks and praise and cordial goodbyes flew around the office and then Sheldon was in the hall. Kripke was leading Dr. Smith and the engineer to the cafeteria, talking loudly about polar bears, and Leslie was standing before him with resolution in her eyes.

"Listen, Dr. Cooper, in light of the fact that we will be living in the same cabin for three months, I think it will be in everyone's best interest if we put all our disagreements in the past where they belong and we start completely afresh, don't you agree?"

Sheldon could say nothing but, "Yes."

She smiled, and it was actually cordial. "Then I look forward to working with you Dr. Cooper."

She held out her hand to shake. Sheldon looked at it and shook his head. "I'm sorry Dr. Winkle, but I don't shake hands."

"Oh, yeah, right," she dropped her hand back to her side. They looked at each other, both attempting polite expressions and nearly succeeding, before simultaneously turning on their heels and parting ways.

_0000_

The North Pole was a place outside of Time. With no permanent civilization, there was no designated time zone—there were no lines of longitude by which to determine it, anyway. Here all directions were south and the sun would be in the sky permanently for the duration of their summer there. The world was blue on top and white on bottom and _freggin cold_.

Far from home, but armed with a team, equipment, and his mind, Sheldon was on a natural high— he wanted to start the work immediately. In his mind, he faced a legion of foes. His coldhearted enemies were an army of unanswered questions, of theories and expectations, and even aspects of his environment.

He had seen Leslie unpacking a bottle of lilac shampoo. Although scent was the only thing that invaded him even when he maintained his personal space, it should not be a problem. She was in a relationship with a man who had hugged her for a long time before she got on the plane, so it was unlikely that she would manipulate anyone into an undesirable situation. Sheldon put up his shields anyway.

Not that there was ever a chance in hell that _lilac_ could defeat him, even if he did have a sensitive sense of smell and limited paths of escape.

He had a theory to prove.

_0000_

A native to California, Leslie was not familiar with freezing temperatures. She did _not_ like them. Thankfully, it was a comfortable temperature in the cabin. Sheldon rattled on about the consequences of "shenanigans," and reminded them all of "the Team Mate Agreement" which he had forced everyone to sign before getting on the plane.

Leslie stood at the little round window in the door, peering out at the flat snow covered ice that glistened in the sunlight. They said a storm was coming later, but the sky was still clear for now. She closed her eyes and contemplated the feeling of being on the tiptop of the planet; it did not feel any different, really.

"Hey," his bark interrupted her moment of peace and she opened her eyes. Eyebrows were pointing, and Sheldon was jabbing his clipboard at a man named Tom who had evidently been smirking. Tom apologized and the atmosphere in the cabin changed dramatically. Previously, it had sparked with an air of camaraderie, almost like camp, but now that spark was muted with a wet blanket of focus.

Suddenly the atmosphere was that of a classroom, with one obvious leader, a mission to accomplish, and a list as long as Leslie's arm of rules to follow. The rules were literally posted on the walls in three different places and they were as crazy as they man who wrote them and stuck them there with a single measured strip of scotch tape.

She had read only the first few (1. There is no Whistling whatsoever. 2. There will be absolutely no touching of Dr. Cooper's things without his permission. 3. The left side of the couch is off limits to everyone but Dr. Cooper) before giving up.

This was going to be a _very long_ three months.

_0000_

After a day of hard work, the team settled around the cabin to relax. Irene put on a movie, Tom and Barry began a game of Go Fish, Sheldon kicked back with a comic book, and Leslie made a discovery that caused her to swear.

"What is it?" The others asked.

"I forgot the bag with my books in it." She groaned, "Now I have nothing to do!"

"You can pway Go Fish wid us, Weswie." Barry said.

"Thanks, but no thanks." Leslie said dryly and with a tight smile.

"Stwip pokeh, den?"

"Harassment, Kripke." Irene, the engineer and only other female in the group, warned.

"Wewax, it was a joke."

"Don't you write?" Irene asked. Leslie shrugged and nodded. She sometimes tried to put her ideas for stories into prose, it never worked out, but she had nothing better to do with her favorite books left back home in California. Irene found a composition book and a pen among her things, and Leslie began scribbling furiously.

_0000_

When they were not sitting for long hours in front of computers, bent over white boards, or science equipment, busy gathering data and calculating results and generally trying to avoid frostbite and sever sunburn, they were stretching out as they enjoyed their games, movies, writing, or comic books.

As far as the work went, Sheldon proved to be a relentless leader, refusing to let them do a single thing in a sloppy way. If sloppy happened, the process was done twice more to be sure.

As for coexisting in the cabin went, Sheldon was a nightmare, as they had all been warned he would be by his last team. Once Tom plopped down on the left side of the couch, and so the whole team had to listen to the recitation—from his memory—of the rules on the wall. Another time Irene sneezed without properly covering her mouth. Sheldon sprayed disinfectant everywhere and spent the rest of the night monitoring his health.

He established a bedtime, and expected lights out and silence for eight hours. He simply refused to let Irene watch The Lake House. Barry, declaring he was bored, had started to open the bag that he knew Sheldon kept his comics in, receiving a strong grip on his wrist and serious eyes leveled on his.

"Rule number two, Kripke," Sheldon had said, pointing with his other hand, at the rules on the wall beside them.

"Can I wead a comic book, Coopeh?"

"No. Go away."

The team somehow managed to bend or break nearly all of the rules in less than two weeks, except for the whistling rule. It was the fact that the Rules were listed in order of _importance_ rather than _alphabetical_ or _likelihood. _No Whistling was more important than No Building Cross Bows, and Tom earned a Court Marshal for bending that rule, so no one had the guts to see what would happen if they whistled.

Well, one person did.

Leslie was whistling while getting dressed in the bathroom after a shower.

Sheldon called out a first warning to her, she ignored it, he called out a second time, she whistled louder. Sheldon twitched and went back to his comic book.

"What deh cwap, Coopeh? You cut off the hot wateh heateh on me for singing."

"Yes, you were _butchering_ the song."

"I hab a speech impediment!"

"Not my problem."

The bathroom door opened, lilac steam wafted out with a damp-haired, pink and whistling Leslie. Tom and Irene watched with eyes riveted on the pair.

Sheldon gave his most threatening look. "I've given you two strikes already. Three and you're on your way home."

"Wow." Irene said.

Leslie rolled her eyes and stopped whistling. She plucked up her notebook and pen. The pages were nearly used up, covered in loopy handwriting and a lot of marked out things. Sheldon knew because his eyes had swept the pages that morning as he passed and, having seen them, could read off them from memory that she seemed to be keeping a diary about her experience in the North Pole.

His eidetic memory made him privy to only three paragraphs, but he recognized in them talent to turn a phrase in a witty way. Just like her insults, in fact, though what she was writing had a much more whimsical and innocent voice to it—it had brought to mind the image of her standing at the window with her eyes closed and her expression peaceful as she ignored him during orientation.

Having recently realized that taking a logical path can often lead to unintended disaster, Sheldon had began seeing eight years ago in a different light, yet again, this time finally realizing that it had been rather ridiculous to blame it entirely on her—he could blame no one who followed logic to all outcomes.

It was for this reason that when she sat beside him and asked if he would let her look at the comic books he had brought, that he did not snort and turn her away. He did not immediately hand her one, either, because the comic books he had brought were not just any comic books, but every issue of Sheldor the Conqueror ever made. He did not like sharing them.

"Please?" She asked, rather grudgingly, "I'll take care of it, I promise, I'm just bored."

Leslie had not wanted to ask him, but if she had to watch another movie or play another card game, she was going to scream. She had never before gone so long in her life without reading something. While she preferred book-books, she was known to read a few comic books in her time—and Sheldon seemed to be greatly enjoying the ones he was reading, smiling and remaining so absorbed that he did not notice it when Irene sneezed from her allergies again.

When she asked him, even saying please with difficulty, Sheldon looked like he was going to refuse, so it surprised her when he sighed and picked up the one on top of the stack beside him.

"Smudges, stains, crinkles, rips and other damage will have consequences beyond your imagination." He said, very seriously. Of course.

She laughed, looked at the little book of pages presented to her. She did not recognize the characters on the front. "What is it, like a special issue?"

"Yes. It's the first issue of the series that my grandmother writes."

Leslie blanched and double looked the picture on the front, this time taking the comic book from him as she did so. She noticed this time that the pictures were hand drawn and filled in with colored pencil—the images were just as breathtaking as a real comic book.

Sheldor the Conqueror, it said in yellow letters across the top and smaller print declared it the first issue entitled, Dark Elf, and a very badass looking male elf was on the cover, fists glowing with black fire. Flipping through the pages (there weren't many) she saw that it was a promising story. When she expressed disbelief that a grandmother could write and make a comic book by hand, he said,

"Perhaps yours couldn't, but mine can. She's made one hundred of them." He motioned to the pile.

"Wait, they are _all_ made by your grandmother?"

"She has made me one for every special occasion since I was ten." He said, "This one here," He lifted the pile to reveal the very bottom book, "Is the triumphant _one hundredth_ issue in honor of this expedition. I plan to reread them all before it."

"Wow." Leslie said impressed, "I didn't know you came from a talented family, Cooper."

"I don't have a talented family, only a talented Meemaw."

The name he had for his grandmother, and the way he used it in all of his thirty years, was so East Texas it brought a smile to Leslie's lips. She sat and made herself comfortable on the right side of the couch, the case of comic books between them. "This looks good."

"That's because it is." Sheldon said, opening his book and returning to it. Out of the side of his mouth, he added, "Wait until you get to issue nineteen it'll—"

"Whoa, _spoiler_ alert, Cooper!" Leslie cried, startling him. Giving him one last look of astonishment, she opened issue one and began reading. She noticed as she read the opening that Sheldon stared at her for a few moments more before returning to the volume in his hand.

The opening was hand written in jagged lettering. It told of a land of magic and wonder, showing pictures of starry skies and grassy hills and clear waterfalls. The government in charge was an Elven Brotherhood that was trying to unite the world but in doing so, became corrupt—punishing that which they did not understand.

_Living in this world_, the last sentence of the opening said, _was a smart young elf of ten years old named Sheldor who lost his parents to the corruption of the Brotherhood and vowed to change things for the better by defeating the most powerful Elves in the world._

The story that followed was obviously written for a boy. The vivid pictures featured images that would be amusing to a child. Regardless, the characters were strong. (Sheldor's sidekicks, two precocious monkeys, were her favorite. They made her laugh aloud with their zany antics as they hindered Sheldor as much as helped him, but they were the best friends anyone could want. The blue one was named Loyal and the black one was named Protective, and Sheldor called them "Lo and Pro") and by the end of the short installment, she cared what happened next.

She read the first four and was about to start the fifth before Sheldon stood and declared it was bedtime. Reluctantly, she returned the comic book to the stack and went to bed. The next day, as they worked, she asked him about his grandmother as they put together the equipment.

"Did she write or draw for a living?"

"No," he said, "She was a housewife."

"Never published _anything_?" Leslie asked.

"Nope," Sheldon said, "I keep telling her to, but she won't listen."

Then he opened the door of the cabin and the workday officially began, meaning that Leslie did not have time to think until that night when they were finished. Sitting on a couch in a warm cabin with hot chocolate and slipping into the world of elfs, monkeys, magic, and danger was a very welcome relief after a day of crunching numbers and frigid temperatures.

Within a week, she reached issue nineteen. By then Sheldor had grown to be sixteen. (Leslie was left to assume that the character aged with Sheldon and was able to deduce that he must have received three issues a year.) By now, Sheldor had traveled far from home and learned many things. He made new friends, each one more interesting and complex than the last, and had made even more enemies. He was currently undercover on a very delicate mission and about to be discovered.

Sheldon was smiling impishly as she eagerly pulled issue nineteen from the stack. As the story had progressed, the books had gotten thicker. This one was the thickest, possibly thirty pages. He raised his eyebrows—all it would take was one word and he could spoil it all. She gave him a threatening look and he stopped teasing her. She dove into the story, not realizing that she was smiling.

On the left side of the couch, Sheldon decided he would much rather monitor her reaction as she experienced the biggest and most important development in the story. The death of Sheldor's grandfather would lead to Sheldor unlocking the secrets of Elven magic, becoming the most powerful Elf in the world, provoking him to declare open war on the Brotherhood. Not to mention, this issue was the introduction of the beautiful Eliza.

No one except for him had ever read the story of Sheldor, (Leonard knew of it, but had never asked) and so he was curious to know if the story was appealing to anyone but him. Judging by how quickly she was tearing through the issues, and how often she laughed, she enjoyed them as much as he did.

Two pages in she gasped—that would be the death of Sheldor's grandfather. Her eyes welled up during the burial and then widened a while later—that would be Sheldor gaining his unmatched power. He recalled the chilling effect of Meemaw's words and the over all sense that Sheldor had just created as many problems as the magic was going to solve.

She did not know the _half_ of it.

She glanced up as she turned the page and saw him watching, "What?" She asked. Her voice was thick with emotion he had never heard in it before.

He smiled, "Just curious if you like it."

"Are you kidding? I want to see him kick that Sir Hillfall's ass—how dare he kill Pappy!"

Sheldon chuckled superiorly and she hissed a warning to keep his trap shut. Neither noticed that across the room, Barry had paused with a card suspended in the air. He, Tom, and Irene were watching the pair on the couch in shock—were they _playing nice_?

That night Leslie finished the nineteenth installment with half an hour to spare before bedtime. She closed it and drew a deep breath. Well _that_ had been an experience. The character of Sheldor had officially cemented himself as the coolest hero _ever_ when he used his newfound power to carve into indestructible Elfstone that he would defeat the Brotherhood, would never go against the ancient Code of Honor, and would never forget or dishonor the memory of his grandfather. And because the words were literally written in stone, Sheldor could not let them be changed, taken back or challenged.

She had thought from the beginning that this series was going to be about Sheldor conquering evil. She _certainly_ had not expected the emergence of a love story—and such a strong love already! Eliza was the daughter of the evil Hillfall, and so the two could not be together. She had nearly cried when Sheldor had carved into indestructible stone along with his other vows, that he would love her forever and keep himself only for her.

She looked up to see that Sheldon was still watching her, grinning. She cleared her throat. "Your grandmother is very talented."

"Isn't she?"

"Yes! Her use of metaphor is astounding."

"The field of stone," Sheldon said, nodding and Leslie did not know why she was surprised that he would know the most prominent example.

"It's such a beautiful way to illustrate his tenacious willpower to uphold his vows."

"You know, I had no idea you had such a good eye for stories."

"It's genetic," Leslie said. "Everyone in my family is a Lit professor."

Sheldon was as surprised as the rest of the cabin. Irene turned from the massive house of cards they were building, "Really? Then why did you become a scientist?"

"It's something different, a little more interesting than the classics. I don't know how to explain it."

"The laws of physics are like the story of the universe," Sheldon said. Leslie double looked him. "Did you read that in my journal?" she asked, secretly hoping he had. If he had not, then the coincidence that he thought that would be too …annoying.

Sheldon's eyes flashed with alarm and he turned away from Leslie to protect his testicles. "Yes." He admitted. "I saw what you were writing last week."

Leslie felt her shoulders relax and she shrugged them. She had not planned on sharing her thoughts on the matter, but since they were out there, "Well, it's true, we're all analyzing the universe like a piece of literature, trying to find out what the author meant by this or that."

Kripke snorted. "So you bewieve there's a giant mystical fowce that's whiting eveweething?"

Leslie shrugged.

"Dere is no God, dere's onwy science," Kripke said.

"No, I definitely think there's _some_ credence to the idea that there's things we'll never know." Tom said, making Irene smile.

A debate sparked between Kripke, Irene and Tom that Leslie had the sense to stay out of; Sheldon had moved to the kitchen area at the first mention of mystical powers, and Leslie joined him there to make another cup of hot coco.

She never thought she would ever be asking anyone for permission to do anything, but she found herself asking, "Mind if I stay up for a few hours past lights out and keep reading?"

Sheldon scoffed, "I need you to be well rested for the _work_, Leslie!"

"I'll be _fine_." She urged, reaching across to grab the cocoa. "You have no idea how often I do more reading than sleeping."

"Proper care for our health is more important here than in Pasenda." Sheldon said, as he scooped out level cups of chocolate powder. "As the leader, I cannot allow you to risk your health."

Leslie rolled her eyes, "I'll be _fine_."

"The work comes _first_." Sheldon replied, "I know Sheldor's is an addictive story, but you have to control your self and remember why we're here."

Reaching across again for a spoon, Leslie scoffed, "Maybe you can't balance two things at once, but I do perfectly fine—"her words stopped abruptly. He had reached for a spoon as well and his hand landed on hers. She looked up, he looked down, their eyes met, they moved apart.

Stirring his hot cocoa, he turned away, "I'll give you one hour allowance past lights out for Sheldor and nothing more." He said.


	16. Chapter 16

**16. Sweet Dreams**

Sheldon and Leslie's goal in science was ultimately the same thing, truth. The only difference was their points of view—Leslie expected Loop Quantum Gravity to be the truth, Sheldon preferred String Theory, but the result was the same, and they had to accept this in order to work together.

With the help of Sheldor the Conqueror, and Sheldon's references to their work as a battle, they realized they could work as a team, attack the enemy from _two _angles at once, like Lo and Pro. This led to a significantly more cheerful atmosphere in the cabin during the working hours, because without science to argue about, and Sheldor as a kind of common ground, the _dumbasses_ and the offical strikes came fewer and further between.

Though neither would admit it, they worked well together. When he was stuck, she looked it over and changed a sign or found a hiding neutrino for him. When she was stuck, he looked it over and suggested she look at it in a different way. Granted, his suggestions usually came with a smug and condescending tone, which pissed her off every time.

Everyone had stopped shaving on arrival, taking full advantage of what nature had to offer to stay warm. Leslie had been expecting to see beards on her colleague's faces, but she had not expected the sight of scruff on Sheldon's jaw to make its way into her dreams digging up as it did a nervous smile and the echo of a slurred, soft, "_never did this before._"

Once, Sheldon had gotten up early to check the math and had been passing by the door to the women's bunkroom when it opened. He had seen, briefly, Leslie's back—bare but for a bra strap—as she pulled on a sweater. Sitting in front of his board after that, he had found it difficult to focus on numbers when all he could remember was feeling a bra strap under his hands as her hair swept, silky and cool, over the backs of his hands.

When Irene slipped and busted her face on the ice, Sheldon fretted over her, pulling out the first aid kit. Leslie had found herself ignoring her work in favor of watching him gently clean up the cut, dress it and hold ice to it for her. That night he stayed up with her past lights out—he would not her sleep for fear of a concussion—and Irene's hyena laughter kept waking Leslie up. She was in a bad mood the next morning.

As far as the work went, things were getting exciting. It was too early to tell, but good things were happening—and no electric can openers were in sight. In his excitement, Sheldon more than once chose to continue working at his desk as they others relaxed. Leslie curled up on the right side of the couch with a comic book and no one to make the scene symmetrical on the left.

Sheldon kept note of her progress through the series, logging away questions of her opinion that he would ask her when he got the time, but otherwise he ignored her and focused on the work. He would not entertain thoughts of keeping the cold at bay at night with a lilac scented body next to his.

_0000_

Sheldon lived in fear of the heater breaking again. Last time had been an awkward situation handled by the fact that they were four grown men who could handle it maturely under an oath that it would _never_ be spoken of _ever_. The presence of two women in the mix just gave Sheldon a stomach ache, and he concentrated his will power on the heater, told it _not_ to stop working. Ever.

He did not have a good handle on his mind powers, or Someone upstairs didn't like him; the heater stopped working again two months into the venture.

Leslie sat wearing her arctic gear inside, under the same blanket with Irene, as Tom, Barry, and Sheldon took turns shimming under the furnace with a small hammer. They would not say what they thought they were doing. Leslie could not make her teeth stop chattering enough to ask.

Tom had his arms crossed and his fur-lined hood up. "Do you—Do you see what I mean? Try to bend that thing back."

Sheldon's voice came out from under the furnace and had the vibrato of a repressed shiver. "Last time, Wolowitz got it going again with a few—" frantic smashes of the hammer against metal.

"Stop it, Coopeh, you're going to bwow us to obwibwion!"

"Would you prefer to freeze in Hell, because that's the only other option!" Sheldon shouted back fiercely.

Tom nudged his boot into Sheldon's side. "Okay, okay…I have an idea. C-can I try, Coop?"

The hammer was laid on the floor and Sheldon's long legs and torso flopped and flailed until he was in open space and in a position to sit up and dust himself off. His face was covered with dirt, black grit, and a neatly trimmed goatee. With a beard darkening the lower half of his face, his eyebrows had less effect when they pointed, "Good luck, I think Wolowitz is the only man small enough to fit under there at the right angel."

Tom laughed as he got down on his face to squeeze under the unit again, "Well I vote we stop feeding Kripke."

Irene laughed. "Here, here."

"Hold on," Sheldon said turning. "Leslie, Irene, you're both tiny, one of you try to get under there."

"No way, I already got under there once. I'm not doing it again!" Irene said, "I told you all you have to do is bend that component."

Leslie was already on her feet. "It takes a woman to do everything around here."

She lay on her stomach and army-crawled into the dark space. Sheldon described what she was looking at, and what she needed to knock back into place with the hammer.

"Okay, I see it, hold on," she struggled to twist and pivot so that her arm could bend properly. With three knocks of the hammer, everything seemed to be where it needed to go. She wiggled out again to find that Sheldon was hovering directly over her, and maybe his eyebrows were still good at accenting his questions. "Did you bend it back forty-two degrees to the _left_?" he asked, worried.

"Yes," Leslie answered with a warning in her voice. Everyone in her lab knew by now that one did not question her ability to do something correctly. But then again, Sheldon had never worked in her lab.

He helped her up—or rather, offered one thickly gloved hand in order to drag her out of his way so that he could see for himself that everything was in order. He declared that they were and allowed Tom to re-light the pilot.

Everyone cheered when the heat cut on again.

Leslie returned to her seat on the couch beside Irene to wait for the cabin to get warm again. Sheldon washed his face and hands before lowering himself onto his spot with a Snuggie and two issues of Sheldor in his hand. "Thank you, Leslie, for fixing the heater. You've save us all from cutting this trip short."

"You're welcome," She said. He smiled and handed her one of the comic books. She looked at it, "Actually, I'm past that one already." As she reached passed him to pull the appropriate book from the stack, Sheldon said,

"No you aren't. I've been keeping my eye on you. You have been maintaining a reading rate of two comic books a—"He gasped, "You've been reading at night!"

She shrugged, "Yep, and it never affected my work, did it?"

Sheldon's expression darkened because he knew saying yes, as he wanted to, would be a lie. Leslie lifted her eyebrows and he scoffed, "Well than how far along are you?"

"Issue 65, the Black Moon Spell."

Sheldon double looked her, plucked the right book from the pile (it was significantly further down than he thought) and handed it over. "Impressive."

"Thanks." She said.

That night, after lights out, Leslie stayed up. She had already won permission to stay up an hour later than the others—an extension which Sheldon monitored like a hawk to make sure she did not exceed the terms of the agreement. But now he knew she had only been feigning going to bed, getting up again once she was sure he was asleep. She was _devious_.

Now that he knew of her midnight forays into the battles of the Conqueror, she did not pretend to go to bed. From his cot, he could see out the door of the bunkroom to the couch, where she sat bent over Meemaw's art, reading and smiling…

_0000_

The wireless phone was as big as a loaf of bread. The reception was terrible. Despite the sketchy connection, the news was conveyed. More budget restrictions and an approaching storm was going to cut the expedition eight days short. It was not a complete tragedy—they had gotten more than enough data due to Sheldon's vigilance.

In fact, it was welcome news—he had been watching her read long enough. She attracted him more than he liked.

"_What_? No! But without his elf-stone sword how is he going to get back home to Eliza?" Leslie cried, starring unbelievingly at the last page of the one hundredth issue of Sheldor the Conqueror.

Sheldon was in the seat beside her, tense from the turbulence of flying, but fidgeting from the energy of a fantastic and mind -blowing development in the story.

"I know!" He cried. His voice was soft and shaking as he tried not to shout his frustration and amazement. "But you're forgetting Lo and Pro, they can get him out of the prison—what I want to know is what Hillfall knew!"

"Oh gosh, yes! I think—but, no," Leslie clamped her mouth shut.

"No, no, no! What?" Sheldon asked.

She shook her head again. "I'm probably right. I don't want to ruin it for you."

"I'm afraid it's about Pappy."

Leslie squeaked. "Me too! In issue 53, Hillfall said—"

"Precisely, which changes almost everything we know about the character of Pappy."

"And the fact that he is dead."

Sheldon gasped. "You don't think he's alive?"

Leslie shrugged.

Sheldon's eyes were burning as he considered this new theory. He threw up his hands, "—Oh good grief, I can't take the suspense. I'm going to have to call Meemaw when we land."

Leslie snorted, "Yeah you are!" she said. "And you can tell her that the fight sequence in the crypt beneath the white city of Dayscape Was. Amazing!"

It was a small plane; the third in a chain of layovers that would get them across Canada and Northern California. The rest of the team listened to the geek-out with smirks on their faces. Tom's and Kripke's were hidden under their beards, Irene's behind her hand.

"Gee, it sounds wike an awesome stowy, I wish someone would hab wet _me_ wead it." Kripke said.

Sheldon didn't respond, having launched into a What If that had Leslie shaking her head and saying no-no-no—better not be—no.

Kripke looked at his friends with disbelief. Irene's laughter was hot breath on her hand and Tom chuckled. The pilot asked over his shoulder if Eliza was hot.


	17. Chapter 17

**17. Home**

The heat of California summer wrapped around her, stifling her. By the time she reached the bottom of the steps of the plane behind Sheldon, Leslie was sweating. Home. Her heart swelled as the familiar blue sky and warmth welcomed her. Behind a gate, a small crowd of people—most of them the family and friends of the team—waited to greet the passengers. A dog was barking excitedly, people were calling names, waving, hugging, laughing.

Leslie felt herself relax—she had not realized she had been tense. Sheldon went to the cargo bay to find his bags and surprised Leslie by returning with hers as well.

"Thanks." She said. Already pictures of her apartment were filling her head and she wanted nothing more than to curl up and go to sleep. Despite her weariness, she found herself asking Sheldon if he needed a ride to his apartment—a good half hour out of her way.

But the lanky scientist did not immediately answer her question. She looked up to see that he was not paying attention to her, but was looking over at the crowd, smiling—really smiling—through his beard and waving. Leslie looked in time to see a giant dog break free of the restraint of his leash, bound right over the gate—it was not hard, the beast was a Great Dane—and charge straight at her. She shrieked before realizing it was actually heading for the man beside her.

"Sit!" Sheldon shouted and the dog skidded to a stop and sat wagging its tail eagerly, panting. Sheldon reached the dog in three easy strides and scratched its ears without even having to bend in the slightest.

A tiny old woman finally caught up. She was Leslie's height, with white hair, a wide smile and very familiar blue eyes. She had to be in her seventies, but looked ten years younger in jeans, a flannel shirt, and a straw hat.

"Surprise!" She cried, throwing her arms up around Sheldon's neck. Sheldon returned the hug comfortably, even tightly, lifting the little woman off the ground an inch.

"Oh, you're so strong!" she chortled as he put her back down. She held his hairy face in her hands. Sheldon gave her a sharp look, which missed with his cheeks squished in her hands until his lips puckered.

"You should be able to control him better."

She scoffed, waved off the obvious concern in his voice. Sheldon turned to the giant black dog. The dog whined in anticipation.

"Up," He said, with one pat on his chest. The dog sprang up, matching Leslie in height as he did so, putting his forepaws on Sheldon's shoulders. The weight of the dog bent the thin man backwards like a reed in the wind. When the dog attempted to lick Sheldon's face, he flinched away and closed a hand around the dog's mouth like a muzzle to prevent it. With his other hand, he gave the dog a thorough scratch on the neck, greeting with a warm-for-Sheldon-anyway,

"You're a good boy, Agamemnon! _Down_."

The dog went back down to all fours. Sheldon scooped up the leash.

"It just slipped out of my hand, is all." The old woman said. Sheldon did not look convinced and did not hand over the leash.

" Who's this?" Sheldon's Meemaw asked, turning her attention to Leslie, who blanched—she had not even realized she had followed at Sheldon's side as if she belonged.

"This is Dr. Leslie Winkle, a colleague." Sheldon said and with half a double look, added "and a friend."

That warm chortle was back, "Any friend of my grandson's is friend of mine. Nice to meet you, dear,"

Leslie extended a hand but the Texan woman ignored it and went straight for a hug. The tiny woman had a surprising strength, and smelled of crayons and chocolate cake.

"You can call me Frankie, dear—Sheldon why have you never mentioned that you work beside such a beautiful girl?"

Sheldon only gave a sharp look of disdain.

"Nice to meet you, Frankie," Leslie said. She was unable to control her smile—she was itching to compliment the woman on her amazing talent as a writer and artist, but did not know how. "I've heard a lot about you. You can call me Leslie."

"What are you doing here, Meemaw?" Sheldon finally asked, "Leonard was supposed to pick me up."

"Well," Frankie had to crane her neck to look up at her grandson, "I decided it was about time to see you in your natural habitat. You always say you'd be happy to show me around the University."

"And I would, but should you really be going on adventures so soon?"

Frankie scoffed and waved it off, "It was a _minor_ heart attack, Moonpie, it'll take more than that to slow me down."

Sheldon seemed to bite back a remark, blue eyes heavy with genuine worry for another person—Leslie wondered if she had slipped into some kind of alternate reality.

As Frankie began showering Sheldon with questions about the trip, the work, the results, Leslie wished she had thought to hang back. She should not have intruded on the reunion between grandmother and grandson.

Her thoughts of guilt were interrupted when Agamemnon began sniffing her, pushing his huge nose all over her. She gave him a tentative pet on the head. She and her sister had only ever had cats—certainly nothing so big that it resembled a small horse more than a big dog.

"Where are you staying?" Sheldon asked, paying no mind to the dog or Leslie.

"With you and Leonard, of course," Frankie said. "Think I'm going to cross over half the country to stay in a stranger's room?"

There was a familiar edge in Sheldon's voice, "Where did you _sleep_?"

"I set my camp bed up in your room." She said with yet another wave, and Sheldon stepped back, panic making him look half-wild.

"Don't you dare give me that look, Sheldon Lee, I didn't touch anything. It is insulting that you would even think I would."

Sheldon actually looked remorseful, mumbled something about advanced warning and preparations.

"Listen here, we old folk like to catch our grandchildren off guard. If we told you we were coming, you'd stop doing all the things you don't want us to know you're doing."

"I don't hide things from you, Meemaw." Sheldon said, but he twitched as he said it and gave another half look at Leslie.

"Hmmm, hmmm," Frankie's lips were pursed. She did not look convinced, but she dropped it. "I tell you what, that Penny is a sweet one, though—and _beautiful_, Lord Almighty! I hope she realizes soon the way Leonard looks at her."

"They had a relationship." Sheldon said, "It crashed and burned."

"Regardless, it ain't dead yet—Leslie, dear, that handsome man has been calling for you."

Leslie turned and saw Vince. With a lurch, reality was back and the very last of the cozy days in the arctic were gone. The sensation was too close to the feeling of waking up to find a completely different Sheldon than the one she'd fallen asleep kissing, like hope was dying.

"I'll see you later," She said to Sheldon, "It was nice meeting you, Frankie."

"You, too, dear,"

Leslie did not look back as she crossed the blacktop to the gate and the little crowd, now dispersing.

Vince was smiling. He hugged her tight, whispering sweet words of welcome and launching into a string of questions,

"So how was the top of the world? Did you get good results? See any polar bears?"

He spoke as they walked to his car, and Leslie answered, trying to ignore it when the Great Dane began barking. She told herself that she was with Vince now, and refused to look. She could not help it, however, when a strong and confident voice cried firmly, "Agamemnon, _Leave it_!" the barking stopped; she looked in that direction in time to see that the great dog had nearly ripped Sheldon's arm out of socket in an attempt to run after her. But upon the shout, the dog stopped straining on his leash.

"_Heel_!"

The dog happily trotted directly beside Sheldon as the man and his grandmother made their way to a rather large red pick-up. She did not notice that Vince had turned to see as well until he spoke,

"Whoa." He said, "That was the coolest thing I've ever seen—my dogs growing up were _never_ so easily controlled, even the little ones."

"Yeah," Leslie said as she got into the car, "But if you knew Dr. Cooper at all, it would not be a surprise."

_0000_

Sheldon thoroughly questioned Meemaw on her plans for the next installment of Sheldor, to which she only smiled smugly and told him to hold his horses. "You'll find out soon enough. I knew you'd be dyin' for the answers, so I've been working hard on the next one for you."

"Good." He breathed easier. "Because Leslie and I have all sorts of theories about what's bound to happen—oh, we can't stand it." He laced his fingers and cracked them between his knees as he turned his head to look at the buildings that passed, noting small changes. It was just like the games in the coloring books. What is different about these pictures? The picture of the last time he had seen it vs. now, three months later.

"You and Leslie?" Meemaw asked, interrupting the matching game and sending a curious sensation through his chest, like he'd just been caught showing something expensive and breakable to his friends, after being told not to touch it at all. Meemaw had never forbidden him to share the comic books, so he had no idea why Leslie having read them should feel so—secret. He discarded the feeling quickly and answered, "Yes, I let her read them. There wasn't anything else to do up there."

"Oh," Meemaw said uncomfortably. "Well, what did she think of them?"

"She loves them Meemaw," Sheldon said, "And don't look surprised, I've told you countless times that this is a fantastic story that millions will love."

Meemaw was quiet for a long time, pleased pink.

Frankie had to focus on driving, but she did not need to see her grandbaby's face to know that he was smiling as he spoke. Sheldon had gone back to his matching game, looking out the window as he told her all of Leslie's thoughts and reactions to the story. He started at volume one, and reiterated every one of Leslie's comments until he got to issue 19, where he was suddenly able to give details of her facial reactions, down to a few sighs that came in when Eliza did, and three different types of smiles. He called these her Humored Smile, her Happy Smile, and her Reading Smile. When Frankie cut in to ask what the hell a Reading Smile was, Sheldon's answer was, "It's a Reading Smile, it's how she smiles when she reads."

Frankie should have known better than to ask such a devious question. He always was oblivious, the poor thing, to undertones and double-meanings. She had no choice but to listen to the rest of his description of a pretty girl's faces and laughs (of which she had four types) without screaming with joy. She wanted to see her great-grandchildren one day, and this one, God help him, could pass on his Pawpaw's smile.

Maybe, Frankie prayed, that dimpled smile would be some Little Sheldon's reading smile someday.

_0000_

"Now hold on, where's Leslie?" Meemaw asked the next day as they placed their orders for dinner with Leonard. Raj and Howard were over, as was Penny.

"I thought you said she was your friend."

The whole room looked at Sheldon with raised eyebrows and smirks. He ignored them, "She is."

"Well then why haven't you invited her over?" Meemaw demanded.

Unable to think of a reason that would satisfy the old woman, Sheldon reluctantly pulled out his cell phone.

**Lunch from Siam Palace **

**with Meemaw at our **

**apartment. Coming?**

Sent.

A moment later, his phone vibrated and the screen said,

**Wait to talk about **

**Sheldor until I get **

**there. Tangerine **

**chicken, please.**

"She's coming." He told the room primly and passed Leslie's order onto Leonard.

_0000_

Lelsie knocked and Penny opened the door. This was surprising to Leslie—she had heard from Howard all about the horrendous break up between her and Leonard, and now she was still eating lunch with them? Granted, the break up had been nearly nine months ago. Perhaps they had worked out their issues over the summer.

"Hi," Penny said, "You have no idea how happy I am that I have a girl to talk to."

There was a lot of noise going on in the background. In a glance over Barbie's shoulder, Leslie saw Frankie was playing Wii Boxing with Howard and the Great Dane was cheering her on. Howard's game was obviously effected by the presence of a house pet that was as big as he was and growling when Frankie said ouch (feeling her avatar's pain.) She kept the dog in check like a nagging housewife. "Oh hush, Ag."

Inside the apartment, a clean-shaven Sheldon was on the left side of the couch and it suddenly became clear why he had designated the left side of the arctic couch for himself—to simulate home. He smiled, and said in the traditional greeting of the Conqueror's soldiers, "Welcome, fellow fighter."

Leslie smiled, tipped her head forward, "Thank you, Conqueror." She greeted and he grinned, pleased to be the hero.

Meemaw stopped making her avatar punch Howard's in the face and turned, "I hear my words."

"Yes, Meemaw, we were discussing Sheldor." Sheldon said.

"Oh!" Meemaw shoved her Wii controller into Penny's hands and hurried to Leslie, "He told me you read them. I want to hear about all of your favorite parts!" As she spoke, she shooed Raj from the couch and sat beside Sheldon, pulling Leslie down beside her.

Penny gave the Wii remote to Raj and went into the kitchen were Leonard was unpacking the food from their containers. Meemaw had insisted they eat from real plates like civilized people.

"Sheldor the Conqueror," She said. "Isn't that his on-line gaming character?"

"Yeah, but it was a comic book character Frankie wrote first."

"Oh, that's cool."

"It's based on Sheldon."

"Oh," Penny's interest deflated. Leonard shrugged, "I never read any of it, but he loves it."

Penny watched Sheldon smile as he, his grandmother, and Leslie Winkle discussed something called an Elfstone sword. "I can tell he loves it—but _Leslie_?"

Leonard frowned at the female physicists and shrugged, "I guess she read them in the North Pole."

Raj had his arms in the air, jumping triumphantly. Howard looked over his shoulder as he reached the counter, "What's up with Leslie?" He asked Leonard, "It's like she's turned into a nerd or something."

Penny shrugged and took her plate into the living room. Raj arrived then, panting and asked, "Dude, do you see Sheldon and Leslie going full blown fan-girl together over something called a field of stones?"

Leonard sighed and handed his friends their plates, "Their friends, now, guys, what can I say?"


	18. Chapter 19

**18. Fighting**

Lights out at eleven, after all his shows, and Sheldon talked her into telling him _one_ little bedtime story, a preview of the next issue of Sheldor. She could not resist that little hopeful smile, never could when it was her Carl's either, which, when she thought about it, was how Sheldon eventually came to be. She said all this aloud as she formulated which part of the story she would tease him with. He surprised her with a sudden question off topic,

"Would you have still loved Pawpaw if he hadn't kept himself just for you like Sheldor did for Eliza?"

Frankie blinked at her grandson in the dark, unsure suddenly if it was him; it wasn't. It was a grown-ass man asking for forgiveness. She propped up on her elbow to see past Agamemnon's head.

"What's this now?"

He sighed. "Nothing. Good night."

"Don't you dare," she said. "Now did something happen up there in the North Pole?"

"No," he said, and she knew it was the truth.

"But you wanted it to?"

"No," he said, and again it was the truth. She was, for the first time in his life, truly bewildered by Sheldon's answers.

Instead of asking all the questions tumbling through her mind, she sighed and said, "Yes, I would have loved him all the same, Moonpie. It wouldn't have changed nothing, really. It was just the nicest thing he coulda ever did for me, aside from making me smile for every day of my life with him."

"Good." He sounded relieved.

Meemaw was smiling. "And here I thought my Moonpie was a monk for science."

Sheldon's voice was controlled and sharp, "I am. Science comes before everything. I'll win the Nobel Prize first and _then_ I'll find the right girl and get married and pass on my genetics gifts."

"Please do it before I die."

"I'm trying," he said. "I'm close, too!" He launched excitedly into his findings at the North Pole, and she followed exceptionally well until she dozed off.

Leslie was invited to eat dinner with them every day that Frankie was in town; so after the two weeks were up and the red truck had rumbled off back toward Texas, it was already a habit for everyone to expect Leslie to come over.

The first night she did after Frankie was gone, Leslie feared conversation wouldn't be the same without an excuse to talk about great stories, but she soon learned that the entire group did little else. Hard core science fiction was at the hub, of which Leslie had a working knowledge, but around that was an appreciation for epic greatness in general.

All it took was a random line, a single reference, and they were off, sharing opinions on every aspect. Granted, it was mostly the mechanics of the world that sparked debate, but when Leslie finally had the guts to admit that she loved reading classic romance novels, Penny came to life and Leonard offered a few examples of touching love stories in the science-fiction genre, launching debates over character pairings.

Leslie knew a decent amount of the fandoms, but occasionally needed explanations, but that only enriched the topic as everyone tried to tell the story and frame the greatness for her.

Penny's explanation of whatever obscure cult classic they were on about Leslie liked best. They touched on the interesting points and always made Leslie laugh when she said things like, "And then a bunch of fighting, blah, blah, blah, magic, blood, and guts, and _then_ he meets back up with her—" Sheldon would have to interject to explain the importance of the battles that were skipped.

He was extremely versed in the history of war, dating back as far as the battle of Troy, knowing not only the dates and outcomes, but the stories behind each. She was surprised to learn that his favorite was the American Civil War. He said it was his hobby—if there was such a thing as a hobby other than science—to read up on the fight between the Union and the Confederacy.

"That's almost all I read these days. I can't get enough civil war stories," she admitted. She wasn't comfortable admitting that they were all romances. That felt too personal.

"Hmm, yes, it is the most interesting point in American history. In fact, I like to re-imagine the battles," he said.

"What?"

"It's a game we play," Leonard said. "We call it Alternative History."

"See what you do is you pick your armies," Sheldon said, "For instance, if the confederacy had Superman or Godzilla then who would Abraham Lincoln have to recruit as general in order to win the war?"

"Well which do they have Superman or Godzilla?"

There was a fraction of a pause. "Godzilla."

"Easy, Sheldor the Conqueror."

Sheldon double looked her. "Now what a fun idea. You know, I've never been able to use him, since no one else understands how great he is."

Howard crossed his eyes and Leonard's mouth cracked open in a large smile. "So does this mean we have to play a round to prove that Sheldor isn't invincible?"

Penny frowned. "Oh, man, I'm no good at this game."

"It's okay, you can be on my team." Leonard said. "And you're better than you think you are."

She smiled. "Awe, thanks. Okay, then let's do it."

"And for the record," Sheldon said, "Sheldor isn't invincible alone, but with the Union backing him, he very well is."

"By what logic?" Leonard asked.

Sheldon opened his mouth, but Leslie interjected, "Abraham Lincoln," she said. Sheldon grinned.

"With his ideals and Sheldor's abilities, it isn't even a war," she said.

Howard started in on his usual spill against the best American president. Sheldon, still smiling, backed her argument as he gathered the appropriate number of bottles and jars from the kitchen to use as game pieces.

With Leslie to even the number, teams broke into three teams of two or two teams of three. It didn't take long for Leslie to detect a gross injustice. Sheldon's team always got the best game controller, the best board piece, the first turn, and was named winner in any instance of a tie. They let him get away with it and she called them on it.

"If we don't let him then he'll go crazy." Penny said.

"It's just not worth it," Leonard said.

"Just let it go, you can't win," Howard said.

"Penny won," Leonard reminded. Penny smiled at him and Leonard blushed.

"I called his mother, but unless he's crossed a line there's nothing she can do about it either."

Leslie shook her head. "He just likes to make you think he is going to go crazy. Just watch this."

The next time they played games, Leonard and the others dealt an underhanded trick in an attempt to sabotage her and made sure to split up so that Leslie had to be on Sheldon's team, with hopes that that would keep her from arguing against his team's advantages. It didn't.

"Why do we get to go first?" She demanded when Sheldon tried to start the word game.

"Because it was my idea to play," Sheldon said.

"So?"

He blinked. "So I'm also oldest."

She shrugged. "What does that have to do with the game?"

"Nothing, it's just a general rule of all game playing," he answered, not yet threatened, just answering questions as he loved to do.

"That doesn't mean anything. It's also common for the order to be determined by height or income or-" Leslie said.

"So I'm tallest too."

"So?"

He turned on her, tense, and she knew that she had whittled him down to his last logical excuse.

"So," he said with pointed eyebrows.

"So?"

"_So my team goes first_!" He stamped his foot.

"No I think Howard's team should go first." Leslie said causally.

"Why?"

"Alphabetical."

"Alphabetical by name of captain?" he asked.

She shrugged. "Sure."

"Fine. I'm captain. Cooper tarts with C. We go first."

Leslie held up her hands. "No, _I'm_ captain. Winkle starts with W, and Hofstadter starts with an H. We go last."

"I'm captain!" He cried.

"Oh yeah, by what vote?" she asked. Sheldon raised his hand. "All in favor of me being captain."

Raj knew what Leslie was doing and did not raise his hand in order to help her out. Leslie raised her hand, "All in favor of me?"

Raj raised his hand. Leslie shrugged, "I'm captain."

Across the table, Leonard, Penny and Howard suppressed giggles.

"My team first, then." Leonard said, pleased. Sheldon twitched. The others tried to play it casual, but watched him with apprehension as they began.

_Leslie Winkle_, the bane of his existence. She did not smell like flowers anymore, which he had _certainly_ not thought he would miss until she started coming over from a night at Vince's smelling of men's body spray, and cigarettes.

What's more, she was teaching the others how to defy him, how to get around his rules. His rules were there for a _reason_! But, he had to allow, she didn't rebel against all order, like Penny tried to do years ago. He saw that Leslie chose her battles well…._too_ well. It was as she knew the difference between what he truly needed and what he just preferred—an amazing feat, since Sheldon didn't even know himself where the line lay.

The war became ugly, and was quite painful for him at times, as she took away something that he was sure he could not live without—like his food schedule. How could he eat pizza on a Monday, it just did not make any sense, Monday was Thai food night, not pizza night, yet she used disreputable facts that his digestive system would not crash if he "mixed it up a little bit every now and then."

Fighting with Leslie now was not the same as their fights over the last eight years. In that vendetta, he had ignored her unless provoked, but now Sheldon found himself demanding things just because he knew it would set her off. He could not say why exactly. He knew his friends would greatly appreciate a cease-fire, but it was simply not an option. When in the middle of a spirited debate over everything from his whistling rule to scientific theories, he could feel his awesome power—so far above the others as they watched with open mouths—but at the same time, across the room, Leslie was also shining.

She _matched_ him in her sheer determination to be right.

So, naturally, proving her wrong was perhaps the greatest thrill of them all.

Every scientific debate came to stalemate. He won debates over his rules—the ones based on sound logic anyway. She did not touch his food, agreeing that it was unsanitary and rude. In fact, she only contested the rules that existed just because he wanted his way. Those arguments she won—he did not lose, he never _lost_; he just transcended the situation.

Eventually, he took efforts to stop the fighting all together.

If Leslie was present, he did not insist on something unless it was absolutely imperative that it be so. When she was gone, and Leonard tried to pull the "Leslie would agree with me" card, Sheldon at first ignored it as false logic, until Leonard, like a three year old, told on him, not to his mother, but to _Leslie_.

To the rest, it was clear that a new alpha was in town, this one nicer to her subjects, but still a dictator. It wasn't that she freaked out or pitched a fit if she didn't get her way, it was just that, after seeing her conquer Sheldon, her opinion weighed so much more than anyone else's. If she wanted to watch _Juno_, then they watched _Juno_.

Sheldon had not enjoyed the movie, or the flashbacks it caused to the most terrifying seventy-two hours of his life when he was positive he was going to be a father at twenty-one.

"I still don't approve of the lightness with which the film makers approached the subject of teen pregnancy," he said primly, clearing the coffee table of the empty pizza boxes.

"Lightness? The entire point of the movie is the difficulty of making such a life-changing decision." Leslie argued.

"Yes, and then it was just oh-so-magically easy for her in the end to part with the child."

"Oh-so-magically easy? It was just the result of her mature out-look during her entire pregnancy. She considered the baby Vanessa's from the beginning."

"I would still have liked a scene depicting her farewell to the infant, as well as Bleaker's."

"Bleaker didn't even see the baby," Howard interjected.

"He should have," Sheldon said resolutely.

"It was just something he had to do." Leonard said with a shrug. Penny patted Sheldon on the back.

"Whatever, you're probably just mad because you thought she would end up keeping it, like I did." Penny interjected.

Sheldon double-looked her and narrowed his eyes. She narrowed hers back, grinning wickedly. She reminded him so much of Missy that he felt the urge to pull her hair—the only thing he'd been able to do in his childhood that would make his twin stop bothering him. He did not do it now, because Missy had always cried to Mom and he got in trouble, and if he pulled Penny's hair, he had a feeling Leslie would have something to say about proper respect for women and the rules of debate.

Leslie smiled at the display. She liked the way Sheldon accepted Penny as just another extension of Leonard, with her bumping past him and dunking under his arms as she pretended to clean, and Leonard cleaned up behind her, and Sheldon fixed everything they did wrong. They lived so easily together.

After the North Pole, Leslie had harbored a secret awe for the roommates who had to live with Sheldon's crazy 24-7. She had not thought it was possible, yet here it was, a little extended family. Man and wife, and man's compulsive brother.

Her heart hurt. "Hey, guys, I'm going to head home," she said.

_0000_

A week later, Leonard was trying to pretend like it hadn't hurt that Penny had stood them up. She should have been there half an hour ago to eat with them. He had gone over to see what was up, but she did not answer his knocks. The others had shrugged. Raj had lamented that Leslie wasn't there, either, receiving a sharp look from Sheldon to which he replied, "What? She's funny, dude."

"She's arrogant and controlling."

"Seems like I know someone else like that, who is it?" Howard asked.

Leonard was laughing past a big bite of chicken when the door opened and Penny stuck her head into the apartment, "Hey, Leonard, can I ask you a favor?"

She was in her slob cloths, prettier than ever, even with her serious face. Nearly choking as he swallowed, he said, "Sure,"

"Could you go to Vince's and get Leslie's things from his apartment?"

"What happened?" He asked, standing.

"They just broke up—it was bad." She cast a look over her shoulder back towards her apartment, "She's staying with me. She just fell asleep and I thought it would be nice if she could wake up and not have to go face him again."

"Yeah, sure," Leonard said.

"The rest of you should probably go, too." Penny said. Sheldon frowned,

"Why?"

"Some of her things are heavy." Penny said and Leonard frowned; He knew Penny's voice when she lied. The others took her word for it and sighed as they stood up. Penny kissed her finger tips and blew over them in their direction and then slipped away back to her apartment.

Leonard tried to remember if he ever got the chance to tell her that he loved that she did that to everyone she cared about. She was such a loving person. His heart hurt as it always did when he thought this way about the girl who had dumped him.

"I didn't know she had moved in with Vince." Raj was saying.

"She wasn't _living_ with him." Sheldon said, "But I suppose there could still be heavy enough items at Vince's—such as boxes of her books. That woman travels with a library."

"Let's go." Leonard said, dropping his head back. Ever since the best relationship of his life had ended, all he wanted to do was curl up and die. He handled it much better most days, but today was one of the bad ones.

"Wait a minute," Raj said, "Why are we doing this—didn't it end badly the last time you went to retrieve items left at a boyfriend's house for the pretty girl across the hall?"

Leonard hesitated, seeing Raj's point. He began wondering if helping Leslie was worth being pantsed again.

"Yes," Sheldon said, "But that was Kurt," He held his hand a few inches above his own head to indicate the size of the man. "This is Vince." He indicated a man that matched Raj, who was the second tallest of the group, in height.

"Oh, right, shouldn't be a problem then." Raj said sarcastically, but the sarcasm missed on Sheldon, as usual, and he strode from the apartment, calling, "Shotgun."


	19. Chapter 20

**19. Crying Knight in Armor**

Leslie opened her eyes when she heard the door close and looked up to see Penny returning with a bag of ice cream. "Hey," she said, 'We're going to have a full-out cry fest about men and how stupid they are."

"I don't want to cry over him, I want to stand over his dead body."

Penny laughed, "Understandable, but why not do both? Let's eat the ice cream and then go kill the bastard."

"Deal." Leslie said.

"So, what happened exactly?"

Leslie rolled her eyes, "I don't want to talk about it."

Penny drowned her ice-cream in chocolate syrup. "You know, my sister went through this with her husband. She shot him in the foot. And you know he never talks about it, but you can kinda tell Sheldon's dad drank all the time, so," Penny shrugged, implying the rest with a deep sigh as she sank onto the couch, "It happens to the best of us, and we just move past it, you know?" She brandished two large silver spoons.

Leslie dug into her ice-cream. It had been a surprise to her when it'd happened—that kind of stuff felt like something in books and movies, something that didn't happen in real life to real people, especially not to her. Hearing about two separate accounts of two of her closest friends dealing with it made her feel like she'd fallen into a rabbit hole.

"So, come on." Penny urged kindly, so like Katie that Leslie had to smile, but she shook her head. No way could she explain to someone—especially Penny—about what happened. What was she supposed to say? O_h, I just called him Sheldon in middle of the sweet agony of coitus._ No. That could never be said aloud.

Ever.

"He just took something I said too personally and it all escalated from there," she said instead. "He showed his true colors. If I never see the prick again it'll be too soon."

"Don't worry, you won't have to. I sent the guys to get your things.'

"You what?"

"Oh, I'm sure they will be fine—there's four of them."

Leslie stood, "I don't need them to deal with things for me—I can handle this myself! I'm not some damsel in distress."

"Leslie, you're getting upset over nothing—" But Leslie had already grabbed her keys and hurried out the door.

_0000_

Despite Raj's constant refrain of, "We don't know this guy—this could be bad." Sheldon was in irrational high spirits. He supposed it had something to do with the fact that Leslie would stop coming over to the apartment smelling of Axe and cigarettes.

They were crowded around the door to Vince's apartment. Sheldon had just knocked when the elevator down the hall binged and out poured Leslie followed closely by Penny who was saying, "They're you're friends, and they want to help you."

"I don't need men to swoop in a save me, Penny." She was saying.

"Hey, Leslie," Leonard said nervously in the face of Leslie's obvious anger. The sight of it alarmed Sheldon as well. He hadn't seen her this angry in eight years.

"We-we're not trying to _save_ you from anything. Right, guys?" Leonard was saying and Leslie's look was so cold, it made Leonard's smile disappear. Sheldon spoke up, "We were just going to do you a favor."

Leslie elbowed her way to the front of the group. When she was standing at the door, she was at Sheldon's elbow and that's when he saw it—a black eye, noticeable in the light of the hallway.

_They just broke up—it was bad._

His hands tightened into fists just as the door opened.

Vince was in a t-shirt and sweatpants and looked surprised to see so many people on his welcome mat. Sheldon had seen him before and hadn't been impressed. But in the light of the evidence he now saw on Leslie's face, the man was suddenly much more daunting than before. Sheldon didn't let himself step backwards like he wanted to.

"I've come to get my things." Leslie said, stepping forward and pushing past him. Sheldon followed right behind her. The others filed in like a trail of baby geese behind him. The room was clean and smelled like Axe body spray. Sheldon wrinkled his nose and looked around. He saw no alcohol in sight and detected that Vince was sober. Something in his chest grew cold and he felt his own fingernails pressing too hard into his palms.

"What is this?" Vince demanded.

"What's it look like?" Penny replied scathingly and Sheldon detected "Jr Rodeo On" in her voice. Vince ignored her and the rest of them as well as he followed Leslie down the hall. He was talking fast, apologizing; Leslie wasn't hearing any of it.

The others stayed crowded in the living room, unable to actually help to gather Leslie's things not knowing what they looked like. Raj did recognize the violin case on the couch and picked it up. Sheldon pulled a paperback book from under a coffee mug, but beyond that they were lost.

Leslie returned, snatching the book from Sheldon's hand and throwing it into a box of books—one just like Sheldon predicted she'd have. Besides books, the box held clothes, hair products and a box of tampons. She shoved it into Leonard's arms before whirling on Vince,

"It's over and you're lucky I'm not pressing charges."

"It was an accident!" He said.

"Control yourself better then, what are you a gorilla?"

Vince's face clouded and Sheldon perceived the movement in the man's shoulder and arm muscles, they were bunching as if to lift the arm and send it flying. Sheldon spoke up before he knew what he was doing,

"Hey,"

Vince looked away from Leslie as Sheldon stepped between them saying, "Do not hit her."

Both Vince and Leslie were surprised by the taller man's intrusion. Penny and Leonard were the only one's not surprised that Sheldon knew what was going on. Vince spoke first, "This is none of your business, praying mantis!"

"Don't call him a praying mantis!" Penny defended, though she'd called him just that many times. Apparently only she was allowed to tease him. She stepped between Vince and Leslie as well. "His name is Sheldon."

"_Sheldon_?" Vince asked, eyes widening. He looked at Sheldon again, and finally placed him as the man with the monster dog.

Neither Sheldon nor Penny saw Leslie wince at the unfortunate revelation, but she lifted her chin, and her chest swelled out as she said, "Yeah, and he's more man than you'll ever be."

POW!

Vince's punch swung around and landed right on Sheldon's nose. He went down hard. In a surge, Leonard, Raj and Howard moved as one, crying out in unison from the injustice. They put themselves between their friend and his attacker, crouched over him, all of them his protectors.

Penny and Leslie, meanwhile, were taking care of Vince. Penny shoved him backwards, hard into a bookcase. Leslie then kneed him in the groin. As he fell to the ground and folded in half with the pain, Penny stood over him shouting country girl threats the whole time, saying things about guns and justice.

The others had picked up a crying and bleeding Sheldon (Raj had one arm, Howard the other, and Leonard had his feet) and they carried him, low and shuffling, out of the apartment. Leslie grabbed her box and Penny, finding a half filled glass of soda in arm's reach, poured it on Vince's head. The two of them slapped hands as they left, closing the door behind them.

_0000_

Leonard was driving. Howard was in the front seat. Raj was following in Leslie's car. In the back, Sheldon was in the middle with Penny and Leslie on either side. Blood covered his face and dripped onto his shirt. His eyes were wet, red and slowly blackening, and his breathing was shallow. He was shouting out in pain as the two women attempted to clean him up with one of the shirts from Leslie's box of things. The bumpy ride made it hard not to bump his nose.

"What in the hell did you think you were doing?" Leslie demanded. She was talking to the whole car in general. "I could have done this without any of you."

"We're you're _friends_, Leslie, God!" Penny shrieked. "You might be _able_ to do it alone, but you don't _have_ to!"

"And you," Leslie hissed at Sheldon as she adjusted the shirt to a place not yet soaked with blood, "That was stupid butting in like you did."

Sheldon pushed the bloody rag away and looked at her, "He was going to hit you."

"He isn't a moron, Sheldon," Leslie said, pushing his head back again and returning the shirt to staunch the bleeding. "He knew better than to do it again with other people around."

"Wait," Leonard said, "Vince has been _hitting_ you?"

"Hell no, he hasn't _been hitting_ me." Leslie said, "He hit me _once_ and I left him."

"And then you sent us to go get your things knowing he was a mad man?" Sheldon demanded. His voice was higher pitched than usual because Leslie was pinching his nose shut.

"_I_ didn't send you!" Leslie cried.

"Well, I'm sorry." Penny said, "Excuse me for thinking four men could stand up to one."

"You sent us a muscle?" Howard asked, whirling. He was beaming. Clearly he'd never been used in that way before.

"Sure," Penny said, "Vince isn't huge—hell, I could take him by myself."

"Me, too," Leslie said then smirking at Sheldon added, "He hit me harder than you and I didn't go down."

"Why did he hit me?" Sheldon whined, not at all offended by her comment. "I didn't do anything!"

"You got into his business, sweetie." Penny said.

"We all got into his business," Sheldon shot back, "Yet I'm the only one he hit."

"You were the only one in arm's reach." Leslie said. While this is true, it had nothing to do with why Vince hit Sheldon. Penny grinned at her and Leslie had the sickening feeling that Barbie had figured out exactly what it was that she had said that Vince had taken personally—the way in which he reacted to Sheldon's name was evidence enough.

Sheldon was crying again. Leslie felt like laughing—not _at him_, not after he took a punch for her, but at how adorable he was. He was not pretending to be someone he wasn't. He was not trying to hide his pain behind a lot of macho man bullshit. His reaction—however awkwardly childlike—was genuine. He was a thinker not a fighter, and he would never pretend to be anything different.

_0000_

Sheldon hadn't been hit in the face since he was a kid. The pain, he was sorry to find, was no easier with age. Leslie pinched his nose closed with her shirt, attempting to be gentle but unable to be from the bump and jostle of the car. On his other side, Penny was stroking his hair.

"Do you want us to sing soft kitty for you, sweetie?" Penny asked. He felt a jolt in his stomach that had something to do with Leslie overhearing. For the first time in his life, he thought he might be too old for lullabies. Leslie frowned and asked what shr was talking about and Penny explained that it was a little song that always made him feel better.

"Seriously?" she asked, looking down at him. She held his head back against the car seat, so he couldn't lift it to meet her eye level, he could only look up at her, trying his best to command control over his embarrassment. Penny answered,

"Yeah, it's for when he's sick, though. I don't know, Sheldon, is a bloody nose a type of being sick?"

He could say no, but hearing the song really would calm him down. He nodded. Penny took a deep breath and began singing. To Leslie's surprise, Leonard started a few words in, followed by Howard in a round.

As they sang, she saw Sheldon visibly relax right before her eyes—he might as well have been in his spot back in his apartment. So Soft Kitty worked as a kind of mobile spot, for emergencies. She smiled. Dr. Cooper may be a whackadoodle, but he was the cutest whackadoodle she had ever met.


	20. Chapter 21

**20. Rich Man's Land**

_**You are invited to an extravagant party**_

_**in honor of the birth of your friend**_

_**Dr. Leslie Emma Winkle.**_

Leonard, Howard, Raj, and Penny stood in the middle of the apartment, all holding a card. Leslie sat glowering on the couch. In the same fashion as Penny, Leslie had barged right into the apartment and flopped down, swearing, "I told my parents I wasn't going to do it this year, but they never listen!"

Sheldon worked at his desk, ignoring everyone.

"I didn't know your family was so rich!" Penny cried, looking at the raised lettering on the invitation and the instructions that there would be a black tie dinner of over one hundred of Leslie's closest friends as well as a live symphony and fireworks.

"Yeah," Leslie said flatly from her place on the couch. "My dad inherited a fortune—getting degrees in literature was just a way for him and all his brothers to pass the time."

"You're not looking forward to this?" Penny cried incredulously, "Les, I would kill to have a ball in my honor! The most my parents do is send me a card and a hundred bucks."

"It's not a ball." Leslie said, "It's a black tie dinner, and it'll be over a hundred of my families' closest friends, and I have nothing in common with those people! That is why I had them send an invitation to all of you—I need people who understand what a freelance electron is!" Then, with a smile at Penny, she added, "and someone who can talk about anything other than British literature or how much money they made this year."

Raj was smiling excitedly; Howard was already asking the likelihood of cougars looking for big things in little packages. Leonard was grinning, "It sounds like fun."

"You'll all come, really?" Leslie asked. Everyone nodded and then turned to look at Sheldon. He sat with perfect posture in his desk chair, fingers flying over his keyboard. He did not pause or look in their direction.

Sheldon had felt only dread upon opening his invitation; a birthday that required black-tie attire did not bode well for him. For one thing it meant he would be forced to wear that damned black suit again, since his favorite old suit had tragically disappeared, and Penny refused to drive him to the store to pick out a better one.

For another, it meant hours of greeting rich folk like Leonard's family, only worse, because the Winkle family was richer and, it was clear to see, weren't as conservative or practical as the Hofstaders, who spent money only on education rather than ridiculous shindigs designed to show off their money. He was uncomfortable with the notion of attending the party, since polite conversation would reveal that he grew up in a trailer park in East Texas. His origins didn't bother him in the slightest—he was proud of how far he'd come-but he suffered an irrational fear that it would somehow create discomfort for Leslie and her family.

And lastly, it meant finding an appropriate gift to give Leslie for her birthday—oh good lord, what could he get her that her family didn't already buy her? And at what price range? Casting his mind back over conversations he'd had with her, he discovered an acceptable gift to give, something she sorely needed. He relaxed, but only slightly.

"Fine," He said to the computer screen.

Leslie felt instantly better about going.

Two weeks later, in his office, while reviewing more of the data from the expedition, they were arguing. He was making assumptions, claiming something to be solid proof, when it was little more than a suggestion. As usual, his stubborn inability to accept that he was wrong was getting under her skin and driving her crazy. He had pushed her competitive button and she was going to make him see reason if she had to hit him over the head with a frying pan first.

When he put his face in hers, declaring that she was a subpar scientist who would just have to trust his genius, she was thrown by how clear blue his eyes were and she noticed that he had scruff on his jaw—they had pulled another all-nighter and it was the early hours of a Saturday.

Leslie acted without thinking and leaned in to kiss him—he flinched away, crying, "What in the hell are you doing?"

Startled, hurt, she replied, "What do you think?"

He crossed the room, putting as much distance between them as possible.

"Trying it again, I see."

"It's not like that at all—I won't get you drunk again."

"Darn tootin' you won't."

"I'm sorry I did that, Sheldon. Really, I didn't know your feelings about alcohol."

"Okay, then." He said, accepting the apology with grace, "And I have recently realized that your stress relief methods were very logical and since I cannot condemn those who follow logical paths, I have forgiven you for your behavior."

"Oh, you forgave me? Well thanks for letting me know."

"It never came up." He said, "But now it has, because here you are, doing it again. I am flattered by your offer, but I decline it."

"You think I'm coming onto you for stress release?" She asked, incredulous. "You know I don't do that anymore!"

"Well what else could it be?" He asked. A part of him knew what it could be, but he wasn't giving that part of himself room to breathe—he was smothering it harder than he ever had before.

"Do you honestly not know that, Sheldon?"

"Why are you yelling at me?" Sheldon demanded rather shrilly, "I am sorry if you are hurt by my disinterest—"

"Disinterest?" Leslie echoed, but he continued unfazed.

"—but I simply will not be distracted from my work. I have dedicated my entire life in the pursuit of science and I will not stop now."

She looked at him, all of his Crazy falling away—except for maybe the germ stuff—and who she saw was a smart man with a whimsical imagination, East Texan accent, boyish grin and charming sense of humor who had a tenacious will power and ambition to literally change the world. Suddenly her anger returned, tenfold.

She charged across the room, "What is wrong with living a little outside of work?"

"Outside of work?—listen to you." He looked down at her with a haughty expression, "There is nothing outside of work for me, Leslie. I am a physicist _this close_ to proving String Theory and trying to balance a normal life on top of it would be the catalyst for all manner of tragic disasters, look at Leonard's entire life, for example. Frankly if he would give up his emotional obligations to Penny then he could focus on some original research for a change."

"What's wrong with emotions? They are the way in which we experience the world." Leslie said.

He snorted, "No, our sensory nerves are the way in which we experience the world, emotions have nothing to do with it."

"Emotions have everything to do with it! Happy/sad, mellow/excited, angry, scared, nervous, embarrassed—without them we would exist in a state of monotone!"

"Precisely," Sheldon said, "the ideal life."

"You have got to be joking!"

"Not at all," Sheldon said, bristling from her tone. "Allowing emotions to run rampant is the most impractical way to live—it hardly ensures one's survival when one gallivants off, acting on their emotions, changing the entire direction of their lives based on something as ever changing as wind. When their feelings change they find themselves at the bottom having to work their way back to the top over and over again!"

Sheldon closed the space between them, his height bearing down on her.

"I have worked my entire adult life towards one goal and getting swept up in things like sex and love and apathy and sympathy is utterly distracting from that goal! I'm closer than ever to proving String Theory and I'm supposed to just throw it all away by acting on my arousal, sleeping with every woman that I possibly can as my friends do, falling victim to heart ache and embarrassment, to bitterness and loneliness? Do you really expect me to want that out of life?"

"Yes."

"Well, I don't." He said.

Her face was so close to his that he could see his reflection in the lenses of her glasses and beyond that, a tinier reflection in her eyes. He could smell her flowery shampoo, wondered if her skin still held that scent, and it wouldn't be difficult—not difficult at all—to touch her. She was just a kiss away.

_0000_

_I don't._

The words still hung in the air, attached to his mouth by the tail of the word bubble. Hurt flickered across her hardened expression and he almost wanted to take it back. Almost.

He couldn't, not when it was the truth. For the first time in his life, he questioned his priorities.

She held his gaze with firm resolve. He realized he'd never seen her cry, and he never would.

She wasn't going to hold it all in this time and let it fuel another eight-year war. This time he was going to know the truths, all of them—how she felt about him, how she felt about how she felt about him, and what had to be done about it—and it was going to be his decision to step up and own up to it, or to turn away and break her heart once more. Because she knew now that the perfect Sheldon that she had once thought he was, could be this Sheldon, if he would just stop wasting his life in pursuit of a dead end theory.

The room was charged with the ferocity of their anger, but then Sheldon's steady gaze fell and his eyes roved over the features of her face, lingering for a nano-second longer on her lips. He actually moved his face closer to hers and for one wild second Leslie thought he was going to kiss her—grab her and kiss her deeply and passionately as she so wanted him to, but then he stepped back and disappointment nearly broke her heart.

She was grounded back to reality and she realized how ridiculous it was to think that Sheldon could ever let passion rule over him. She felt like crying. How could she do it again? In the past months of their friendship, she had begun building up fantasies about him and convinced herself that they could be true.

But Sheldon was Sheldon and it was stupid to ever let her heart believe that he would ever be anything different than what he wanted to be. She did not let her face move, despite her heart ache; she made it stay in a mask of anger, and turned on her heel and marched from the office.

Sheldon stood in the center of the room, feeling worse than he ever had in his entire life.

_0000_

_MeeMaw,_

_I need your help. As you know, I have dedicated my entire life to science and have pursued it without mercy. I put it before everyone, even you, but now someone is threatening to undo everything. You met her when you came out, Leslie Winkle. She interferes with every aspect of my life. She's here every day, I see her at work, thoughts of her keep me awake and when I finally do fall asleep, I dream of her! I can't escape her, MeeMaw, and believe me I've tried._

_It has always been my intention to win the Nobel Prize before looking for my ideal potential lover, marrying her and passing on my genetic gifts. I never before considered what I would do if I found her before the Nobel Prize. _

_How do I make room for science and her at the same time?_

_Your Moonpie Truly, _

_Dr. Sheldon Cooper_

_0000_

The dreaded event arrived. Everyone looked fantastic, complimented each other and laughed. The band played, some people danced. Everyone she saw wished her a happy birthday and asked all the polite questions people did when they wanted to sound like they cared.

Leslie stuck beside Katie the whole time, and kept her eye on the door. They arrived fashionably late. Sheldon was not wearing a plaid suit as she saw him wear to all of the seminars, speeches, and faculty parties of the past. He was wearing the suit he wore to the award benefit, the ending of which was all over Youtube. Her stomach fluttered upon seeing him—she hadn't seen him since storming out of his office.

"Happy birthday!" Penny cried when they reached her. Leslie accepted the warm hug. Raj was next, kissing her on the cheek. Leonard followed and then Howard, who tried to cop a feel before she stopped him. Sheldon wished her a happy birthday without moving any closer. She introduced them all to Katie.

As the group of nerds dispersed with Penny dragging Leonard onto the dance floor, Howard lurking off to hunt for booty, and Raj making his way to the alcohol, Leslie found it hard to keep her eyes off Sheldon. He and her uncle had fallen into a discussion over Leslie's prospects of gaining a teaching position and tenor at the university.

"Teaching is prolly to dull for her." She heard him saying, "she likes playing with lasers too much—challenging the preconceived notions of the universe and…" The rest of his response was lost to the sound of the music and the conversation of the crowd as they walked away.

In a black suit, all childish aspects were gone; he was a grown up, with strong hands and a sweet smile to set him apart from the crowd of other black suits around him. He looked normal, cool even, and was hands down the sexist man Leslie had ever seen. He was actually drawing the eyes of some of the women as he passed them.

But normal, cool, what did those words mean? Normal was blending in. Cool was blending in and still drawing attention. Normal and cool were not Sheldon, not her Sheldon. Her Sheldon was strange and unfashionably unique.

Suddenly, his character was a secret, one that only she knew—but that was not right. The personality of Dr. Sheldon Cooper was too big to keep to herself. She did not want to. She wanted to share him with the world. It was as if the best gift ever was wrapped in the same wallpaper that covered the wall behind the gift table. Everyone would overlook it, going for the best wrapped, missing out.

He was still the same man, of course. No, a personality like Dr. Sheldon Cooper was not going to alter in the slightest because of a different wrapper. She absolutely loved this about him, but she could not help feeling, as she looked at him, that something was wrong.

Could it be? Did she actually miss the plaid suit?

The plaid suit.

She missed the plaid suit.

She missed. The plaid suit.

Only Sheldon could pull off a plaid suit. It was zany, took true confidence to wear with no excuses, no apologies. It set him apart from the crowd. It demanded attention and got it. It was hilarious. It was playful. If he were wearing it now, it would not feel like he was hiding, trying to be something—someone—he was not.

_0000_

"Psst!"

The dinner had commenced. The dining hall was buzzing with the sound of conversation, accented by the tink of silverware. Close family and friends sat at the main table. Leslie's father was laughing with his son-in-law.

"Psst, Hugh!"

An olive actually hit him in the temple. Looking, he saw his wife leaning over her plate, smiling. "Do you know who that young man is?"

She nodded down the table, to where Leslie was sitting with her friends. She was sitting across from a tall, lanky man. He was holding a cinnamon candle and speaking loudly as he declared,

"…is stronger than the Hulk."

"In what universe?" Leslie demanded. "He's an old man!"

Several bottles of condiments, saltshakers, and a few candles, were spread out across the table between them.

Hugh frowned. The argument was growing heated. "No, dear, who is it?"

"That's the young man I was telling you about—the one Les saw in the bookstore and it made her upset!"

Hugh double looked the man, now assessing him to be the "adorable scientist" that Barbra had prattled on about for days. Leslie was now speaking to him through clenched teeth. Her cheeks were flushed and her fists were clenched.

Hugh nearly stood up to do something about it —it never occurred to him that the man wouldn't be there if Leslie didn't want him to be, only that he had a history of hurting his daughter and he seemed to be making her angry on her birthday. But before he could take a step in that direction, some of Leslie's old college friends arrived—late as usual.

She stood to greet them, all smiles and hugs. The young man looked smug and when Leslie sat down again, all conversation seemed amiable. Hugh sat down again, too. His wife was beaming at their daughter. Feeling his eyes on her, she looked at him and he saw that her eyes were shining.

"Oh, Hugh."

"Don't get ahead of yourself, Barbie."

She was nodding with a maniac look in her eye. "Mark my words."

"Consider them marked," He sighed, "now leave them be. Don't you dare start meddling."

Barbra looked disappointed, but agreed. Hugh thought she never looked cuter than when she was failing to contain her excitement.

_0000_

Leslie excused herself and slipped out of the dining room. She found the restroom at the end of the hall. When she was finished, she found someone in the hall, waiting for her. He was tugging at his solid black sleeves.

"I feel ridiculous." He said. "This is a clown suit."

"Me, too," She said, indicating the dress her mother picked out for her. It was too rich for her tastes.

"Well you shouldn't," He said in surprise, adding softly, "you look beautiful."

The sincerity in his blue eyes, looking down at her with an expression as soft as his voice, was enough to make Leslie loose her breath—never mind how broad his shoulders looked in the black suit, or the new timbre in his voice.

She stepped closer to him. He did not move away.

"Thanks for coming, Sheldon." She said, "I would have been bored without someone to beat at Alternative History over the dinner."

"I can only assume you mean someone to beat by cheating at Alternative History over dinner." He corrected.

"The British won fair and square."

Sheldon snorted, "Fair and square? Mahatma Gandhi had Professor X on his side!"

"And the Empire had the Hulk." Leslie shrugged, "Tiny Indian man," She held up a thumb and forefinger and brought them together, quipping, "squished."

"Professor X would have controlled all of the minds around him, including that of—"

"Not if Bella Cullen was casting a shield over the British soldiers."

"I told you once, woman, that _mockery_ of a vampire story is not allowed!"

"First of all, the rules were All Fictional Characters Allowed—not Just the Fictional Characters that Dr. Cooper Approves Of. Second of all—"

"I thought the need of my approval was implied."

"Ha!"

"The Hulk cannot crush the most peaceful man who ever lived."

"Apparently he can."

"Oh, that is just…" His eye ticked, he could not find the word.

She was looking up. He was looking down. Their noses were almost touching. Despite the fact that he was failing in his attempts to defend a world hero, he was smiling, so was she. Both forgot the points they were trying to make. His lips just barely brushed hers.

The door to the dinner hall opened. Sheldon straightened. Katie stuck her head through.

"Leslie, there you are! Come on, we're going to start giving you your presents!"

Leslie joined her sister. Sheldon stayed behind, alone in the hall. His mind was finally catching up to what had happened. It had seemed so natural, moving in, connecting himself—however briefly—to her at the place where their breaths mingled. He had kissed her, had deliberately made his lips touch hers; there had been no scary feeling, no alarms, just delight as he discovered that her lips were as soft as they looked.

Sheldon cleared his throat. _It's all biochemical._

_0000_

"It's a fish!" Katie cried when Leslie pulled the tied bag of water out of the bowl and held it up.

"_Nah_- It's not just a fish," Sheldon cut in, speaking to the whole room, "It's a glow in the dark gold fish—a fish nightlight! I invented them."

_Oohs_ and _aahs_ went through the crowd as Sheldon explained about the Japanese scientists and the simple, but delicate, process of making a gold fish glow. Mr. Winkle demanded the lights be shut off for a look. There was a pause in which people murmured excitedly while someone hurried to find the switches for the chandeliers and others figured out how to close the blinds. Leslie's eye caught Sheldon's, Happy Smile.

The lights shut off completely with a rather dramatic clunk—someone had just thrown the power breaker instead of dealing with the row of fifty switches. Gasps rang through the crowd—no one had expected it to happen so fast. Then right behind the gasps came cries of, "Oh, look!"

"Good, God, it does glow—look at that!"

"Wow!"

"Oh, Leslie it's so cool!"

She held the bag high so that the whole crowd could see. The kids hurried to get a closer view. The orange glow emitting from the fish flickered almost like fire light through the water. It cast a strong enough glow to light up Leslie's face, and the line of children's faces in front of her.

Something ached in Sheldon's chest and he looked away. The lights came back on and dazzled his eyes, but the image remained in his head; Leslie's glowing face, and a fourth smile—a new smile—logged away as her Serene Smile.

_It's all biochemical._

_0000_

Leslie had opted to grab a few drinks with Raj. She just wasn't up to the act anymore, the chore of fitting in with her family. It felt nice to hang with Raj at the bar. With a drink in him, he was what she needed. He was naturally a better listener when sober, but Leslie didn't need a listener. She needed someone who could say what she didn't know how to.

"You still love him," Raj said past the lip of his grasshopper.

Leslie's automatic reaction was a snort and a denial, but yeah, she did. She covered her face in misery and mounting annoyance. "Not still just…again," she grumbled. She took an angry swig of her beer and pointed the bottle neck at him. "It's what I do, every time. I convince myself that he is perfect, but he's not!"

"Who is?" Raj asked. "Nobody's perfect, Les, even Sheldon Cooper, but he's the only one trying to be," Raj shrugged, "in his own Crazy way."

"Don't defend him."

Raj was looking at her with a raised eyebrow and a small smile. His smile was a flash of white in his dark face, "You know I'm right, I can see it in your eyes. Is it his temper? Because you saw him with Vince; the most he would ever do is," he shrugged, casting his mind around for the perfect example, "Try to blow up your head with his mind-powers."

Leslie smirked, remembering the youtube video of him fighting Leonard like a flamingo on Ridlen. "No, it's not his temper…"

Raj dropped it. Leslie couldn't help but notice that he seemed to be comforting her like someone with a disorder, assuring her it wasn't her fault, no one blamed her or held it against her. He didn't comfort her with the traditional, "I'm sure he feels the same way."

One of the catering women that worked the bar came over with a special smile, and Raj turned importantly.

"Hello cutie," she said. Raj gave her his exotic smile, "Why, hello."

He glanced at Leslie, and the woman saw her for the first time and looked a little disappointed. "Oh…"

Leslie waved her down. "No, no, go have fun."

Raj nodded his head at Leslie casually, "Just a friend. What's your name, beautiful unspoiled American flower?"

_0000_

At the end of the evening, and escaping the party once again, Leslie paused before turning the corner, hearing her name,

"…Leslie is his friend." Leonard was saying.

"We're his friends," Raj replied, "but we never get presents, dude."

"It was a marketing scam." Howard brushed off, "Glow in the dark fish aren't cheap to make, he has to sell them for a lot to make a profit. The Winkle Family and Friends have high incomes—the perfect customers. Based on the reaction of the children alone, I wouldn't be surprised if he got a lot of orders."

"Sheldon isn't trying to make money from his fish nightlights." Leonard said.

"If he were, he would have made millions by now because it's Sheldon, he never does anything halfway. Need I remind you it's been four years since he invented them?"

"Which brings us back to my thesis" Raj said, "He spent a month—not to mention considerable expenses—to make her a gift when he supposedly doesn't believe in gift giving to begin with?"

"Well sure it sounds strange when you say it like that." Leonard said.

"Face it, dude, Sheldon has it big time." Raj said and Howard made psh sounds. Leonard said, "You're right, he does love her, but I guarantee you that he doesn't know that."

"That goes without saying." Raj said and then the Valet pulled the car around.

Leslie's heart was pounding. She leaned on the wall to prevent her knees from giving out. _You're right, he does love her._

_He does love her._

"Okay," Sheldon's voice rang across the hall as he breezed through the door from the restroom. "Bladder relieved, let's hit the road."

Leslie whirled. Sheldon stopped walking, smiling. "It was a fun party. I had a great time, Leslie."

She tried to be casual, "Thanks for coming—thanks for the fish nightlight!"

He straightened, wriggling with pride as he closed the distance between them, "Yours is a female fantail. I'll let you name her, but can I make some suggestions? Traditionally, goldfish have human names. I think yours looks like a Lola, or maybe a—"

"Sheldon." She cut in, "Why did you get me a present?"

"It's your birthday." He replied. "And I know you like fish and you said once that you stub your toe in the dark all the time and so I—"

"You don't believe in giving gifts."

Sheldon frowned, "Where did you hear that?"

"Raj,"

"I don't believe in the social convention of exchanging gifts." Sheldon explained. "It's more trouble than it is worth trying to find a gift that displays the appropriate amount of affection as the gift you receive, as well as matching it in price. However, I have no qualms about giving gifts and getting nothing in return in cases where I already know what to get."

"Oh,"

There was a pause and Sheldon asked, "Are you alright?"

"What makes you think I'm not alright?"

"Well, you didn't make a snarky comment, for one thing."

"How do you feel about me?"

He was thrown by the question, double looking her with surprise and a little concern. "You're my colleague, and my friend."

"That's it?"

His eye ticked and he answered, "I really don't understand the point of these questions."

"Do you know how I feel about you?"

His eye ticked again. "I have several instances of you telling me, but all of them have the word dumbass in them."

"Sheldon, we're in love."

He did not meet her eye. He was tense and looked like he was ready to flee. He was fidgeting in the way he did when he was wrong. He looked lost and confused.

"Isn't there something we can do about it?" His voice had the desperate undertones of a man wanting to know if there was any way to disarm a bomb in time. Smiling, Leslie took both his hands and stepped as close to him as she could, craning her neck to look up at him. The panic in his blue eyes dissolved away as he looked down at her at this proximity.

"You already know the answer to that." She said. He was breathing irregularly, but smiling, and he spoke softly, playfully, "Well, drat!"

Leslie double looked him, "Was that sarcasm?"

"I believe I'm gaining remarkable fluency." He declared with pride. She laughed and went to her toes, kissed him. He kissed back, long and sweetly.

"There, it's not so bad, is it?" she asked with her forehead on his nose. He released her hands to hold her face, kissed her again, deeply.

_0000_

It was hot in the car. The air conditioner was on full blast, and not doing its job. Howard groaned, undoing his tie, "Where is he?"

"Honk the horn, man."

"I don't want to, this is a nice place."

"So? Rich people have heard car horns before, dude."

As three scientists sat sweating in their suits in Leonard's idling car, around the corner not ten feet away, just out of sight, a forth was finding out that Leslie's mouth tasted like wintergreen gum and Sprite.


	21. Chapter 22

**21. The Girlfriend Agreement**

Leonard had already pulled onto the highway when Sheldon's mind, once again, began to catch up on what had happened.

Kissing Leslie had been, in a word, magnificent. It had made him feel _alive_ and happy about it. He forgot that he was going to have to put up with a long car ride with a drunken Raj, a tired Penny, and a horny Howard, with only a sarcastic Leonard willing to play car games. All he had thought about was her, and how good he felt holding her against him.

But now, with space between them, his head was clearing and he was beginning to understand the scope of what happened. She loved him, and—he could deny it no longer—he loved her. He loved her. He loved her. It felt good just to think it. He briefly wondered what it would be like to scream it before he pushed that thought away to deal with the problem at hand.

What about science?

He had made an oath, after putting great thought into the matter, to give his pursuit of science everything he had. He followed this oath—with the exception of a single drunken night—to the letter. Love, he knew from Meemaw and Pawpaw, was a similar venture. It was all or nothing, or there was no point.

Leslie's serene smile was something he wanted to see again so badly it ached.

String Theory, on the other hand, was his life, his past, his future. It was his mission, he'd put so much into it there was no _way_ he could give it up. He would never give it up. He wrote that in his field of stone, and it would not change, no matter how badly he wanted to devote his life instead to finding her other smiles, alone and in the orange glow of a fish nightlight.

If the car noticed that he was too quiet, no one said anything.

He did not sleep at all that night, spending the whole time pacing or trying to come up with a formula that would solve his dilemma. It was six in the morning when he realized the date and that Meemaw would have sent a reply to his last letter. He ran downstairs and waited for the mailman.

He leapt with joy when he found the letter among the stack of bills, and nearly kissed the mailman. He sat on the stairs and ripped open the envelope.

_Moonpie,_

_Since when can't Dr. Sheldon Cooper do two things at once? I read your letter to Pawpaw, and he told me last night in my sleep what to say. Anything worth doing is worth doing right. You don't have to make room for her and science, because she's already moved in, sounds like. It only feels crowded because you're trying so hard to push her out the window, but it looks like she isn't going anywhere. Stop fighting it and everything will work out for itself. I promise._

_I was praying I would live to see this day. I know you never were one to take God at face value; you're slow to trust and doing it blindly isn't an option (you get that from me) but what you've never had a whole lot of is faith in the Unknown. I know it must seem silly to you the way the rest of us can believe without proof, but sometimes the proof is that we believe._

_You're working so hard to find the answers to this great big wonderful world, and when I think about what you'll teach us, you take my breath away, and I have something to tell you: Leslie will help you get there. Trust me, you figure out the math in your feelings for that girl, and you'll find what you're looking for because, remember, God is Love and Love is God. This next step in your life is the key to unlocking the secrets of the universe._

_Just know that Love is easy, Marriage won't be. But if you let yourself trust in love, it'll you carry you through the rough patches, and help you take on the things you don't understand yet._

_Forever and always,_

_Your loving Meemaw_

_P.S._

_Here's my ring. Missy done thought she'd get it first, so you'll have to square it with her next time you see her, but it's yours if Leslie likes it._

Sheldon turned the envelope upside down, and an old silver ring encrusted with white opal dropped into his palm. It was heavy and looked so sad empty and alone. Sheldon stared at it. He'd never in his life seen it off his Meemaw's finger. He couldn't imagine what her frail hand looked like with just the plain wedding band on it.

_Anything worth doing was worth doing right_. Pawpaw used to tell his grandchildren that at least once a day during their stays with them. They would help him stack firewood and he would say it, they would help change a tire and he would say it. He taught Sheldon's big brother to drive the truck with Missy and Sheldon in the backseat and he said it every five minutes as George JR got the feel of a clutch. He would dip Meemaw in a kiss and say it._ Anything worth doing is worth doing right._

For better or for worse, Sheldon heard it every time he did the math, every time he cleaned something twice, every time he spent an entire Saturday washing, sorting, and folding laundry. _Anything worth doing is worth doing right._ His pursuit of science was worth doing right. Making Leslie smile her happy smile was worth doing right.

Sheldon would have still been torn over what to do, except that the other thing Pawpaw used to always say came to mind right behind the first, _ain't nobody afraid of failin'. What people fear is being capable of doing anythin' they want and succeedin' at it. God done gave us all more potential than we like to think he did and so we came up with the idea of failing so that we could hide from it._

Shaving an hour later, Sheldon paused to stare at his reflection. With a whole night of not even trying to sleep, he did not look his best. He never was one to doubt himself, but ever since the drive home, he was starting to think differently. It was tiring, chasing something relentlessly, never giving it an inch, ever. He was not sure he could do it and be for Leslie what Pawpaw was for Meemaw, too

But then he recalled Leslie smiling her happy smile and tipping her head with a playful, "Thank you, Conqueror."

She had known that Sheldor, a character that could do anything he set his mind to, was based on him and had not been arguing the fact, by calling him by the character's name, she was agreeing to it. Leslie believed he could do anything, and that made him believe it to. He could not do it all alone, no one could, but he could do it with Leslie believing in him.

He left the apartment a step behind Leonard and with the ring in his pocket.

She was sitting in her usual spot on the wall, but she wasn't reading. She was smiling and looking at Sheldon as Leonard pulled into the parking spot and cut the engine. Neither man moved for a second.

Leonard had gotten the whole scoop between home and the university. Sheldon had buckled up and started talking before Leonard had the car in gear.

"I kissed Leslie last night."

"What?"

"A couple of times."

"What?"

"I'm in love with her."

"_What_?"

"Oh, I'm sorry, am I not speaking clearly? I'm just so excited! I said I kissed Leslie last night multiple times, because I am in love with her."

"I heard you, but—where did this revelation come from?"

"I know it must seem crazy, we've hated each other for so long, but you know it is a common story element in literature; love mistaken as loathing."

"It's not crazy, in fact I've been waiting for you to catch on to it for a while now."

"You have?"

"Yes," Leonard had said with a laugh. His smile had been so big that his eyes were squinted shut. "And I'm so proud that you were able to figure it out all by yourself."

Sheldon had looked sheepish. "Actually, the credit lies entirely with Leslie. She pointed it out to me with clear logic and it could no longer be denied."

"Oh," Leonard had laughed. "Well that does sound more like you. Still, I'm happy for you, man. This is huge."

"Yes."

"How do you feel?"

He'd licked his lips,

"Fantastic," he'd answered, looking out at the world, comparing the pictures; The Route to Work without Love vs. the Route to Work in Love. Everything was brighter and slower.

In the parking space, Leonard looked through his dusty window at the woman on the wall. He'd never seen Leslie so put together in casual wear. Her style today was half-way between her grunge habits and the cleanliness of a black-tie party. Her hair was straightened—Leonard found it hilarious that Leslie even owned a striaghtener, it was like Sheldon and the condom all over again—and she had it pinned back from her face in a neat but practical way that somehow made the blouse and jeans she wore seem like more of an outfit than just clothes to wear.

Sheldon wasn't breathing, or didn't seem to be. Then in a rush of movement he was unbuckled and out of the car. Leonard fumbled with his door latch and was on his feet outside of the car before he reluctantly decided he would hold back and give them some privacy.

Leslie jumped off the wall to meet Sheldon halfway in the grass. She could not remember ever seeing him step off the sidewalk, this man who walked the extra three feet to take the ninety-degree turn of a paved path rather than cut the corner, like everyone else. She grinned as she suddenly knew that he wouldn't dare do it if there was a sign actually forbidding people on the grass.

He stopped in front of her in arms reach but not reaching. His hands were closed once again around his messenger bag, and he fiddled with the buckles nervously.

"Good morning, Leslie," he said. She did not know the tone he was using. It was new; special.

"Hi," she said to him, suddenly breathless. Her pulse had quickened.

"You're hair is straight again."

"Yeah."

"It's nice." His eyes roved over it, "It makes you look neater."

"I thought you would say that."

Silence fell between them. He had offset his jaw and was smiling at her with such boyish intent that her knees were a little weak and she felt ridiculous. She struck out, thumped him on the solar-plexes.

"Stop it," she warned playfully.

His smile changed from impish to confused but happy about it. "What did I do?"

"You honestly don't know?"

"No," he said. "I have to tell you Leslie that in all matters between us from now on, I am no expert at all."

Her eyebrows rose. "What? Dr. Cooper admitting ignorance?"

"A self-inflicted ignorance that must be corrected immediately."

Leslie chuckled and stepped into him. "Okay then, let's start with what you shouldn't do when we are at work."

"I'm listening,"

"Don't call me baby, or honey or anything."

"I would never call you baby or honey. Your name is Leslie. I will call you Leslie."

"Good," she said, more pleased than she cared to admit that he was on the same page, "Also, there will be no public displays of affection except for holding hands."

"With some exceptions, of course," he said, nodding.

Leslie paused. "Elaborate, please."

"In the case of near death experiences, if I save your life or you save mine; or upon hearing exciting or terrifying news that alters all existing paradigms—For instance, I prove String Theory while standing in line at a movie theater, or California starts crumbling into the ocean. Kissing in front of perfect strangers would be acceptable in these instances, expect for California crumbling into the ocean; then you can do whatever you want to me."

Leslie gasped. "Sheldon!"

"The world would be ending, Leslie, and we will have descended into anarchy."

"I can't believe how much thought you've already put into this."

He shrugged as humbly as his arrogance would allow, "It's what I do."

"Aren't you forgetting an exception?"

Sheldon frowned.

"Greetings?" She said and it took him a moment to catch on. He bopped to his toes, his boyish grin coming back, "Oh!" and he bent to peck her on the lips, short but sweet. "Good Morning, Leslie."

_0000_

Single Sheldon was a severe annoyance.

Playing-the-Field Leslie was an intimidating cautionary point of reference.

Sheldon and Leslie as a couple was a force to be reckoned with.

Despite her earlier battle to change his manipulative ways, she started to become a little manipulative herself, using Sheldon as her ultimate weapon, for he would bend any logic for her to get what she wanted, if she really wanted it. As a team, they used logic against the world to get things their way (after a debate that decided what their way was, of course.) They enjoyed reminding the world around them that they were smarter, luckier, and happier than everybody else. Leonard and Penny (now back together) could make sound arguments to contest the fact, but her having nothing beyond high school education crippled their argument.

Sheldon and Leslie won. Every time.

Then when the time was right, and in the glow of two fish-nightlights named Clark and Lola, Leslie found he was still the same sweet, gentle boy of all those years ago, only more experienced and twice as funny. He found her to be as strong-willed and intoxicating as he remembered—the lack of change was comforting.

For the first time in Sheldon's life, he could not get his head wrapped around an idea—this idea that everything was right in the world—and because Leslie was there to cling to, the dwarfing effect of the idea did not worry him as much as it would have normally done. His heart, as big as the whole outdoors of Texas, had taken over and was making him unable to think clearly, and so he was unable to remember to be logical, practical, and afraid.

His self-preservation instincts should have kicked in by now because his happiness was wrapped up so entirely in her that all it would take was a single word and she could destroy him. But he was not thinking about that. All he was thinking of was that astounding idea that everything was okay. He was not alone, she was so great, he felt so good, she smelled so amazing and tasted even better, and he was not alone. He was not alone.

The clock said it was the early hours of a Sunday. They were lying still wrapped in each other. He was asleep. The shadows of the room moved strangely—the result of the light source being two fish flittering around. She listened to his heartbeat and his breath as she watched the light show on the ceiling, thinking about everything.

She could see his cloths, folded neatly in a chair—the memory of him pausing everything to put them like that, saying, "Hold your horses, woman, this is how they _go_!" then, with a rather devious smile and no want for confidence, "okay, time to _rock your world_." made her smile.

This was all she needed. She felt whole, as if she'd been rolling around with a missing piece, trying to fit all the wrong ones into place. Trying, and failing, to simply not feel the pain she inflicted on herself every time she'd sought comfort in a stranger. She'd become so used to the ache that now with it gone, she felt like she would literally float up to the ceiling if she wasn't tucked so neatly and tightly into bed at Sheldon's side. She couldn't stop smiling. She couldn't really breathe. She could _feel it_; the wounds in her heart were properly cleaned and closing.

Her Sheldor had rescued her from herself at last. She'd found her Darcy. She knew Sheldon; she could rely on him never to change. The emotions swelling inside of her were too much to keep in and it felt safe, since he was so sound asleep, to whisper softly into the orange glow of the room, "I want to marry you."

His arm around her tightened and he kissed her hair replying softly, "I thought marrying me was implied."

Leslie nearly had a heart attack—DAMMIT, HE WAS AWAKE?—but his sleep-slurred answer melted her heart, and suddenly, putting her feelings into words seemed so simple, so safe, yet unnecessary; Sheldon already knew them.

He did not have to put his feelings into words either. Rather than say he wanted to marry her, he had made love to her and had taken her reciprocating love to be the answer to an unspoken question that she had yet to even let herself think about. She did not know why it surprised her, when she thought about it. Working with him since the North Pole expedition had taught her what his arrogant self-promotions over the years had not; he _did_ operate on a higher level than the rest of them. He could see answers to questions no one thought to ask yet.

The ring had been tucked safely into every pocket he had worn since Meemaw gave it to him, waiting for a moment when he could be sure that she would not give the wrong answer. He got it out for her now, and realized he was wrong; she would let him see her cry after all.


	22. Epilogue

**Epilogue**

Before having a chance to see the Facebook status of the Drs. Cooper and Winkle, Penny opened the door one morning without knocking. Leonard was in the kitchen, the TV was on and Dr. Who was playing.

"Can."

"Can't."

"Can."

"Can't."

Penny froze upon looking at the couch. Sheldon was in his spot, wearing a bathrobe and eating a bowl of cereal. He was not doing anything particularly strange. What was weird was that Leslie—also wearing pajamas—was curled up next to him with her head on his shoulder, and he didn't seem to mind. Sure, it was his "girlfriend" but Penny had seen nothing beyond handholding.

"Can."

"Can't."

"Can."

"Can't."

Both of their eyes had been on the TV, but when she came in, they looked at her and nodded in greeting, but never broke in their rhythm. They were smiling as they argued. Ripping her eyes from the unusual scene, Penny went into the kitchen. Leonard smiled when he turned to find her taking their milk.

"What's going on?" She asked.

Leonard sighed, dropping his head back, "They started arguing over something trivial and it dwindled down to this."

"What _is_ this?" Penny asked looking into the living room briefly—the image was too new and strange too take in for too long.

"A battle of perseverance;" Leonard said, putting two spoons of sugar in her coffee, the way she liked it. "The winner will be the one with the last word."

Sheldon's eyebrows were pointing, but he was smiling. He shoveled some cereal into his mouth and actually spoke past it—something Penny had never seen him do before either.

"Can't."

"Can."

"Can't."

"Can."

"Can't."

Penny turned away again, holding her temples; it was too early for this. "How long has this been going on?"

Leonard looked at his watch, "About half an hour."

"Make them stop!"

Leonard shrugged, "This is what happens when two prideful, stubborn people collide. The only way they are going to stop is if Leslie decides she would rather be kissing him than arguing with him." Over on the couch, the pair was still going.

"Can."

"Can't."

"Can."

"Can't."

"Can."

"Can't."

"Can."

"Can't."

"OKAY, God, you win!" Leslie cried, lifting her head from his shoulder to look up at him.

"Darn tootin' I win." He said putting an arm around her and squeezing her. She laughed and kissed him. He kissed back; there was a _clang _of his spoon on the bowl in his lap as he dropped it to brush her cheek lightly before the kiss ended. Sheldon took his arm back and went back to his cereal. Leslie returned to resting with her head on his shoulder.

Penny turned wide eyes on Leonard, "Oh. My. Gawd!"

Leonard was smiling, and toasted his mug, "To true love."


End file.
